
Glass. 



P^: 



Rook 



THE EDWIN C. DINWIDDIE 

COLLECTION OF BOOKS ON 

TEMPERANCE AND ALLIED SUBJECTS 

(PRESENTED BY MRS. DINWIDDIE) 



E. C, DINWIDDIE^ 



THE 



NATIONAL 

Temperance Orator. 



A NEW AND CHOICE COLLECTION OF 

Prose and Poetical Articles and Selections, for Public 
Readings, Addresses, and Recitations, 

TOGETHER WITH 

A SERIES OF DIALOGUES, 



For the Use of all Temperance Workers and Speake^t-, 

Divisions, Lodges, Juvenile Temperance 

Societies, Schools, etc., etc. 

■y 

EDITED BY 

MISS lT PENNEY. 



New York: 

The National Temperance Society and Publication House, 
58 READE STREET. 






Entered, according to Act ot Congress, in the year 1&74, ay 

J. N. STEARNS, 

In iLe Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 



CONTENTS. 



PROSE. 








PAGE 




Pi.Hl 


A Drunken Soliloquy in a Coal 




No Man has a Right to be Neutral 


,111 


Cellar 


. 102 


Objections Against Abstinence, 


. 


106 


Agitate ; or, The Two Masters, 


. 51 


Opposite Examples, . 


. 


170 


A Righteous Demand, . 


. $00 


Our Warfare, 


• 


66 


A Word of Warning, 


. 13.1 


Our Cause is Christ's Cause, 


• 


148 


A Word to Young Men, 


. 195 


Power of Organization, 


• 


47 


Beware ! . 


. 139 


Prohibition, .... 


• 


7» 


Christian Responsibility, 


. 37 


Shall We Fail? . 


• 


119 


Cold- Water Greeting, . . 


. 91 


Sober Reflections, . 


• 


W 


Death and Drinking, . . 


. 43 


Take Hold, 


• 


84 


DocTs Sermon on Malt, • 


► 85 


Ten Reasons, . . . 




89 


Drinking for Health, . $ 


120 


Temperance and Religion, , 


• 


87 


Facts Worth Knowiug, 


95 


The Cold- Water Army, 


• 


136 


Girls and Tobacco, 


29 


The Curse of Alcohol, . 


. 


154 


Give Me Back My Husband 1 


74 


The Decanter and the Dram-Shop, 


70 


Indictment of the Traffic, 


158 


The Liquor Reveuue, 


. 


144 


Introductory, 


180 


The Liquor Interest, 


. 


183 


Intemperance the Great Socia 




The Natural Beverage, 


. 


152 


Battle of the Age, . 


189 


The Pledge ! the Pledge ! . 




174 


Its Name is I egion, 


140 


The Question of the Hour, . 




9 


King Alcohol, 


40 


The Reform Will Go On, . 




61 


Make it a Political Question, 


198 


The Rottenness of Moderation, 




5$ 


Moral Sentiment, . 


115 


*The Sluggard, the Beast, and the 




Necessity of Perseverance, . 


186 


Drunkard, 




ias 



Contents. 





PAGE 




PAGB 


The Temperance Enterprise, 


. 98 


Who is Safe ? 


. 17 


The True Keniedy, 


, 103 


Will it Tay? . . 


... 82 


Two .Methods of Reform, . 


. 13 


Woman's Work, . , 


167 


What will You Take T . . 


. 22 


Work and Result*, 


. ♦ 806 



POETRY. 



A Boast of King Bacchns, . .168 
A Child's Vow, .... 104 

A Mission, 38 

A Moderate Drinker's Soliloquy, . 55 
A Model Temperance Speech, . 69 
An Acrostic on the Word Distillery, 98 



Anti-Catawba, 




. 50 


A Teetotaler's Apology, 




. 151 


A Teetotaler— why? 




. 162 


Be Brave, My Brother, 




. 105 


Belshazzar's Feast, 




. 160 


Come and Join Us, 




. 130 


Don't Drink I . 




. 140 


Drank in the Street, 




. 194 


Filled with Wine, . 




, 127 


Pound Pcad, 




. 23 


Found Dead Drunk, 




. 85 


Give us iiood Laws, 




. 27 


Going Down-Hill, . 




G5 


How Jamie came Home 




. 176 


" I have Signed the Pledge," 


. 143 


■* 1 have Drunk my Last Gla 


38," . 146 


I'll take What Father 1 


"akes 


k. . 20 



That 



In the Cnp, . . . 
Inventory of a Drunkard, 
Introductory, . 
Jack Simpson's Dream, 
Lei Every Vote be No, , 
Little Ones Like Me, . 
l * Licensed to Sell," 
License or No License? ' 

the Question," 
Look not on the Wine when it 

Red, .... 
Lulu's Speech, 
Men Wanted, . . 

Mind the Door, . . 
My Grandpa, . 
Never Begin, . . . 
No Drunkards There, . 
No Drunkard in Heaven, 
Old Rye makes a Speech, 
One Hundred Thousand, 
Onward, 

Only Sixteen, . 

One Night with Gin, 



. 11 

. 24 

. 84 

. 73 

. 188 

. 30 

. 32 
s 

. m 

is 

. 99 

. 88 

. 171 

. 68 

. 138 

. 128 

. 44 

. 185 

. 154 

. 15 

. 48 

. 78 

. 129 



C 07i tents. 





PAOK 


Onward and Upward, . 


199 


Pitcher or Jug T 


. 110 


Prohibition 


. m 


" I^.ire Liquor,** 


. 132 


Rum 


. 12 


Seventy-six and Now, . 


156 


Smoking and Snuffing, 


42 


Song of the Water, 


. 101 


Strong Drink, 


42 


44 Stand to Your Guns," 


. 71 


Streams of Pure Water, [. 


114 


Take a Stand, 


, 190 


The Bards of Bacchus, . 


. 191 


The Children's Army, . . 


. 134 


The Cry of the Earth, . 


. 59 


The Drunken Mother, . 


, 89 


The Drunkard, 


. 93 


The Drink ! the Drink ! 


109 


The Good Time Coming, 


19 


The Graded Alphabet, . 


193 


The Little A rraies, 


96 


The Little Boy's Song, . 


1:55 


The Little Shoes, . 


48 


^e Modern Goliath— Alcohol, , 


81 



noB 

The Mouse and Her Promise, . 197 

The Modern Cain, . . . 202 

Tho Rain-Drops, M 



The Scolding Old Dame, 
The Seven Ages of Intempe- 
rance, . 
The Temperance Millennium, 
The Terrible Drink, 
The Temperance Giant, 
The Whiskey Ring, 



73 



153 

28 



181 
35 



The Wreckers 165 

The Year that is to Come, . . 118 
The Youthful Advocate, . . 142 

Tobacco, 45 

Unjust Gains, .... 36 

Vote Yes, or No, . . . . . 99 

Vote It Out 11* 

Where are You Going, Young 

Man? 11? 

What is the Liquor-Shop ? . ,179 
Wine is a Mocker, ... 54 

Wide Awake, .... 58 

Work and Pray, . .58 

Ye Sons of Our Nation, . . 14 



Contents. 



DIALOGUES. 



PAGE 

Bad Company, . ... 209 

Be Kind to the Drunkard, . . 222 

Bound and Tight, .... 267 

Buy Your Own ttoose, . . 228 

Cider Drinking, .... 249 

Fast Colors, 226 

U is Worst Enemy, . . .215 

How it Paid, 280 

How to Make all the World Tee- 
totalers, ..... 270 
Independence, .... 236 
Learning to Smoke, . . . 240 
Likes and Dislikes, . . , 254 
Little Bessie, . • . . 275 
Little Brown Jag, • • . 172 
Howttatr. ..... HI 





PAGE 


Questions and Answers, 


. . 278 


Smoking, . . . 


. 214 


Takiug a Stand, . . 


. 243 


Temperance Alphabet, . 


. 247 


The Choice of Trades, . 


. 259 


The Crooked Tree, • 


. 256 


The Fountain and the Still, 


. 217 


The Motto of Our Order, , 


. 244 


The New Pledge, . 


. 283 


The Pump and the Tavern, , 


. 232 


Things Worth Knowing, 


. 286 


Using Tobacco, 


, . 238 


We will Stand by the Flag, 


. 256 


What Rum Will lio, . '. 


. 221 


Young Tempers**? Orator, . 


• Ml 



THE 

NATIONAL TEMPERANCE ORATOR. 



The Question of the fioui\. 

How feel temperance men? How beat the temperance 
heart and pulse in reference to the emergencies of the 
hour? The day for declamation on this great question 
has gone by. We want facts; we want arguments ; we 
want prayer to God ; we want personal work ; we want 
votes— all of them. If we get enough of all, we will have 
success ; if we fail in any, we will fail in a vital particular. 
The great question of the hour is the question arising 
out of the decanter and the dram-shop. Some man says, 
"The question of the hour is the labor question.'' 
Quaint old Thomas Carlyle said : " The labor question as 
1 see it is just this : that every man does as little as he 
can, and gets as much as he can for it." Friends, the true 
solution of all the labor difficulties to-day is not how 
many hoars the working-man shall work, and on what 
precise conditions he shall work, but how he shall save 
his money from the insatiate gullet of the dram-shop when 
he has earned it. That is the most practical aspect of 
the labor question. Another man says: "The real ques- 
tion is political corruption— how to purify our politics." 
Purify our politics ! Do you know that our politics have 



io The Question of the Hour, 

been rotted to the very core by the dram-shop? Bear in 
mind there will be no purification of American politics 
that ignores the bottle and the dram shop. Another 
man says : " The question of the day is to reduce taxation." 
Who that is here does not long for the reduction of taxa- 
tion ? What is the cause of most of the taxation ? The 
bottle and the dram-shop ! Strike at these, and you have 
done more to reform political corruption, you have done 
more for the laboring classes, you have done more for 
their riddance from the burden of taxation, than by any 
and all other methods combined. And so I might start 
one question after another which men think to be the 
question of the day, and you will find this one underly- 
ing them all. I go further. I believe that the perpetuity 
and success of republican government in the United 
States of America depend more on overthrowing this 
master-peril and master-curse than any man of us, per- 
haps, can estimate or even conceive of. So let us as 
patriots, philanthropists, and lovers of our Lord and 
Master, that stand confronting this tremendous ques- 
tion, " How shall we deliver our whole society and the 
state from the curse of the decanter and the dram-shop ?" 
look at it practically. The decanter is to be reached by 
personal persuasion, and by every man, woman, and 
child putting it away. The dram-shop is to be reached 
partially by that method, and partially by stringent legis- 
lation ; for I hold it to be as fundamental as any princi- 
ple of our Declaration of Independence that every com- 
munity has a right to abate a public nuisanxe, and to ex- 
press by its suffrage whether or not such a nuisance shall 
exist among them. Rev. T. L. Cuyler, D.D. 



/// tlic C?f/>. 1 1 



In the Cup. 

There is grief in the cup! 

1 saw a proud mother set wine on the board ; 

The eyes of her son sparkled bright as she poured 

The ruddy stream into the glass in his hand. 

The cup was of silver; the lady was grand 

In her satins and laces; her proud heart was glad 

In the love of her fair, noble son; but oh! sad, 

Oh ! so sad ere a year had passed by, 

And the soft light had gone from her beautiful eye. 

For the boy that she loved, with a love strong as death, 

In the chill hours of morn, with a drunkard's foul 

breath, 
And a drunkard's fierce oath, reeled and staggered his 

way 
To his home, a dark blot on the face of the day. 

There is shame in the cup ! 

The tempter said, " Drink!" and a fair maiden quaffed 

Till her cheeks glowed the hue of the dangerous 

draught ; 
The voice of the tempter spoke low in her ear 
Words that once would have started the quick, angry 

tear; 
But wine blunts the conscience, and wine dulls the brain. 
She listened and smiled, and he whispered again; 
He lifted the goblet; "Once more," he said, "drink!" 
And the soul of the maiden was lost in the brink. 

There is death in the cup ! 

A man in God's image, strong, noble, and grand, 
With talents that crowned him a prince of the land, 
Sipped the ruddy red wine — sipped it lightly at first, 
Until from its chains broke the demon of thirst ; 



1 2 Rum. 

And thirst became master, and man became slave, 
And he ended his life in the drunkard's poor grave; 
• Wealth, fame, talents, beauty, and life swallowed up. 
Grief, shame, death, destruction are all in the cup. 

Ella Wheeler. 



Rum. 

A SONG for the rights of man — 

The day of his triumph has come, 
And women and children have no rights 

In this glorious age of rum. 
Rum for the laborer's arm ; 

Rum for the scholar's head ; 
Rum for the man that lies in the street, 
And the man that lies in the bed. 
Drunk ! drunk ! drunk ! 

On Jefferson, Market, and Main ; 
Drunk ! drunk ! drunk ! 
Till the lamp-posts reel again ! 

The little girls have no bread; 

The boys have no shoes to their feet; 
The grate is as cold as the pavement-stones ; 

The father is drunk in the street. 
Drunk ! drunk ! drunk ! 

There's whiskey at every door, 
There's a palace for whiskey on every square, 
But no shelter for the poor. 

There is darkness in the halls ; 

The voice of joy is dumb ; 
And the graves, and the jails, and the luetic 
cells 
Are rilled with the spoils of rum. 



Two Methods of Reform. 13 

A boat has left our shores, 

To the Southern market bound ; 
Rut the pilot was drunk, and the boat sunk, 

And a hundred people were drowned 
There was whiskey enough for all, 

But not a life-boat to save ; 
For the beauty of woman and the strength of man 
There was a watery grave. 
Drunk ! drunk ! drunk ! 

Let the world do all it can ; 
We will not barter our rights away— 
To drink is the right of man. 

To the city fathers we call : 

If you have children and wives, 
How can you turn your eyes away 

When we plead with you for our live*? 
If you have hearts of flesh, 
Hear us, while we entreat 
That you break the foul, deceitful snare 
Set for our naked feet. 
If you regard us not, 

And no compassion take, 
When the Lord demands your stewardship, 
What answer will you make ? 



wo Methods of Reform, 



Two Methods of R 



The temperance reform, broad as it is, divides itself 
naturally into two branches ; it is a reform of two me- 
thods. It is a reform, you know, in the first place, of the 
individual; it is a struggle against inward temptation; 
and then, as applied to society, it is a struggle against 
the outward incitement. So that, again, it divides itself 
into moral and legal suasion. We need moral suasion, 



14 Two Methods of Reform, 

of course, as the foundation of everything ; we need cor- 
rect public sentiment as the foundation of all correct 
action, and nobody can overvalue this. It is always to 
be present in our efforts, and nobody should think, if we 
make but little mention of it in our conventions, that we 
therefore ignore it. It is because we do not wish per- 
petually to go laying again the foundations. The founda- 
tions have been laid. We all believe in it; we all know 
it; we were all brought up to appreciate the value of it; 
and we do not wish to be repeatedly naming to weari- 
someness the platitudes that have been repeated so often 
in regard to this cause. We know it all by heart; we 
value and cling to it, and we expect to as long as we are 
engaged in this temperance warfare. But out of this 
grows the necessity for legal suasion. I have a very 
short method with those who advocate moral suasion 
alone. I say, "Practise it upon yourself first. Persuade 
yourselves first to be total-abstinence men ; for nine- 
tenths of the men who talk about this are not total- 
abstinence men themselves. Persuade yourselves, then 
try it upon your neighbor; then go hand-in-hand with 
those noble organizations that are lifting up the weak. 
Do the work of moral suasion ; lift men up from the gut- 
ter; and then, depend upon it, there will be no man more 
earnest and pronounced than you in an effort to make 
the streets safe for the men whom you have rescued from 
the gutter." No man who has a Christian heart, who 
has wept and prayed over the victim of intemperance, 
and has succeeded in elevating him into the image of 
God, with a clean heart and a pure soul — no man trem- 
bles more than that man when he sends him forth to his 
daily work, to run the gauntlet of the legalized grog- 
shops that lie in his path; and no matter what that man's 
theory may have been when he started, he comes back 
from the work of benevolence indignant at the civiliza- 
tion that allows the weak to be tempted back to destruc- 
tion again by this public incitement to vice and iniquity. 



One Hundred Thousand. I 5 

So that let every man follow moral suasion to the end, 
not with mouth and word only, but with the heart and 
hand, and I will risk his feeling upon this subject of legal 
suasion. Hon. R. C. Pitman. 



One Hundred Thousand. 

One hundred thousand men — 

Gay youth and silvered head — 
On every hill, in every glen, 
In palace, cot, and loathsome den, 

Each year, from rum, lie dead ! 
One hundred thousand sons of toil 
Yearly find graves in freedom s soil, 
From rum, good friends, from rum ! 



On many a wooded plain 

Their glittering axes rung; 
Homes for their loved ones dear to gain, 
They tilled the soil, and plowed the main ; 

They taught with pen and tongue. 
Our brothers — living by our side — 
They tasted— fell — and sadly died 

From rum, good friends, from rum ! 



Up many a fortress wall 

They charged, with boys in blue, 
'Mid surging smoke and volleyed ball, 
These they survived — only to fall 

From rum ? Can it be true ? 
Once noble men — perchance our pride — 
One hundred thousand MEN have died, 

Th is year, good friends, froin ru m / 



1 6 Ye Sons of Onr Nation, 

One hundred thousand hearths 

Are rendered desolate. 
And must it be forever thus? 
Must children's children feel the curse? 

Friends, shall we vacillate? 
Or shall our people now awake, 
And with loud voice the nation shake, 

And cry, Away with Rum? 



Ye Sons of 0ui\ Nation. 

Ye sons of our nation, 
Of every vocation, 
Arm now for the battle 

Of freedom and right ! 
When true men are wanted, 
No heart should be daunted; 
For liberty's cause 

Let all freemen unite. 

Speed on with ambition 
True, sound prohibition, 
And save sixty thousand 

From falling each year ; 
And all future ages, 
In history's pages, 
Shall tell the proud story 

To nations afar. 

Shall earth's richest treasure 
Yield to such sinful pleasure, 
And golden grains wave 
Over valley and plain. 



Who is Safet 17 

That malsters may gather, 
To curse son and father, 
That innocent joys 

Shall be theirs ne'er again? 

Let malster and brewer, 
/\nd every wrong-doer, 
Find callings consistent 

With God's holy plan, 
And Satan's host tremble, 
While true men assemble 
To pass the good law 

That shall elevate man ! 

Then arm for the battle I 
Let truth's cannon rattle ; 
And soon from his strongholds 

The tyrant shall flee ; 
And thousands now living, 
In strains of thanksgiving 
Shall swell the glad chorus, 

" Our country is free I " 



i 



ho is Safe f 



It is indeed a terrible tyrant, the insatiate monster of 
intemperance. In the thousands of j^ears that have 
elapsed since the sacred Word came from inspiration, 
every year has been realized the truthfulness of that 
series of striking and startling questions: "Who hath 
woe? Who hath sorrow? Who hath strife? Who hath 
babbling ? Who hath wounds without cause ? Who hath 
redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine, 



1 8 Who is Safe. 

they that go to seek mixed wine." We speak of the 
horrors of war, and there are horrors in war. Carnage, 
and bloodshed, and mutilation, and empty sleeves, and 
broken frames, and widows' weeds, and children's woes, 
and enormous debt, and grinding taxation, all come 
from war, though even war may be a necessity to 
save a nation's life. But they fail in all their horrors 
compared with those that flow from intemperance. We 
shudder as we read of the ravages of the pestilence that 
walked abroad at noonday; but the pestilence, like war, 
kills only the body, and leaves the soul unharmed. But 
all sink into insignificance when compared with the sor- 
row, and anguish, and woe that follow in the train of this 
conqueror of fallen humanity. 

My friends, from the most learned professions, from the 
bench and the bar, from even the sacred desk, this desmon, 
like death, has seemed to love to choose a shining mark. 
Not the narrow soul and heart, not the one who clutches 
the pennies in his grasp, are the most in danger ; but the 
genial, large-hearted men, who are not fortified as we are 
fortified by the determination not to yield to the first 
temptation. None of them are safe. From every profes- 
sion he has drawn his victims. There is but one class 
whence he has never drawn any. The coronet on the 
brow of the noble of the earth, the grandest statesman- 
ship, the highest culture, the most brilliant eloquence, 
have not saved men. There is but one class that has de- 
fied him, and will to the end. It is we who stand, God 
helping us, with our feet on the rock of safety, against 
which the waves of temptation may dash, but they shall 
dash in vain. I implore you to come and stand with us. 
I plead with you, for I believe that all mankind are my 
brethren, Schuyler Colfax. 



The Good Time Coming, 19 



The Good Time Coming, 

I know when the good time coming, 

That seems so far away — 
Such a distant, dim to-morrow — 

Shall be a glad to-day ! 
It will be when all the maidens 

Shall place beneath the ban 
Of their indifferent scorning, 

Each tippling, drinking man. 



When every girl and woman 

Who knows enough to think, 
Shall tell her would-be lovers: 

" I wed no slave of drink. 
No devotee of Bacchus 

Need bow before my shrine, 
And offer a heart divided 

Between me and his wine." 



If all the noble women 

Would tell their lovers this, 
"The lips that touch the wine-cup 

Our own can never kiss," 
I'm sure 'twould answer better 

Toward helping on the cause, 
And making men abstainers, 

Than half a dozen laws. 



But if women will not do it, 
Why, then, we'll work away 

With laws and books and lectures; 
But still I think and say, 



20 r 11 Take what Father Takes. 

If girls would go about it, 
Each, every one, and all, 

They could sweep away the traffic, 
And crush old Alcohol. 



Hurrah ! for the valiant maidens, 

The maidens tried and true, 
Who will not wed wine-bibbers ! 

Are you among the few? 
If so, then you are hasting 

The great good time to come ; 
If not, then you are helping 

That fiend and demon, Rum. 

Ella Wheeler. 



I'll, Take What Father Takes. 

Twas in the flow'ry month of June, 

The sun was in the west, 

When a merry, blithesome company 

Met at a public feast. 



Around the room rich banners spread, 
And garlands fresh and gay ; 

Friend greeted friend right joyously 
Upon that festal day. 



The board was filled with choicest fare; 

The guests sat down to dine; 
Some called for " bitter," some for " stout/ 

And some for rosy wine. 



V II Take what Fat Iter Takes. 21 

Among this joyful company, 

A modest youth appeared ; 
Scarce sixteen summers had he seen, 

No specious snare he feared. 

An empty glass before the youth 

Soon drew the waiter near. 
"What will you take, sir?" he enquired. 

'•Stout, bitter, mild, or clear? 

We've rich supplies of foreign port, 

We've first-class wine and cakes." 
The youth with guileless look replied, 

11 I'll take what father takes." 

Swift as an arrow went the words 

Into his father's ears, 
And soon a conflict deep and strong 

Awoke terrific fears. 

The father looked upon his son, 

Then gazed upon the wine ; 
O God ! he thought, were he to taste, 

Who could the end divine ? 

Have I not seen the strongest fall, 

The fairest led astray ? 
And shall I on my only son 

Bestow a curse this day? 

No ; heaven forbid ! " Here, waiter, bring 

Bright water for me. 
My son will take what father takes: 

My drink shall water be." 

W. HOYLE. 



22 What Will You Take? 



What will You Take ? 

How often this question is asked by men accustomed 
to the use of intoxicating drinks ! Suppose we put the 
question in a more practical way? Will you take ten 
cents' worth of poison? Will you take a pain in the 
head ? Will you take a rush of blood to the heart ? Will 
you take a stab at the lungs ? Will you take a blister on 
the mucous membrane? Will you take a nauseating sick- 
ness of the stomach? Will you take redness of eyes or 
black eyes? Will you take a tint of red for your nose? 
Will you take a rum-bud for your face ? Will you take 
an offensive breath? Will you take a touch of deliriutn 
tremens ? Suppose we change the question a little. Will 
you take something to drink when you are not dry? 
Will you take something to drink which will not quench 
thirst when you are dry? Will you take something to 
drink which will make you more thirsty than you were 
before you drank it? There would be some sense in ask- 
ing a man out at the elbows to take a coat, or in asking a 
bareheaded man to take a hat, or in asking a shoeless 
man to take a pair of boots, or in asking a hungry man to 
take something to eat; but it is a piece of insane ab- 
surdity to ask a man to take something to drink — that 
which will not quench thirst. Why should he take some- 
thing? Will it make him stronger, wiser, better ? No; 
a thousand times no! It will make him weaker; 
it will make him idiotic and base. What does he 
take if he accepts the invitation? He takes "an 
enemy into his mouth which steals away his brains." 
He takes a poison into his stomach which disturbs 
digestion. Could he make a telescope of the glass 
Which he puts to his mouth, and look into the future, 
what would he see ? He would see in the distance, 
not far away, a man clothed in rags, and covered with 



Found Dead. 33 

the blotches of drunkenness. He would see a man de- 
serted by his friends, and distrusted by all his kindred. 
He would see a wife with a sad face and a broken heart, 
and children growing up in ignorance and vice. He 
would see the poor-house, the penitentiary, the gallows, 
and the .grave-yard within easy approach. Take the 
pledge, and keep it. 



Found Dead. 



I am weary, worn, and old, 
On the pavement hard and bare, 

Shivering in the west wind cold, 
Night-frost silvering my hair. 

O rumseller! let me in. 

Let me sit beside your fire, 
Give me just one sip of gin, 

I will nothing more desire ; 
See, my garments are so thin. 

O rumseller! let me in. 

Once you used to open wide, 

With a welcoming hand, your door, 

Greeting me with warmth and pride; 
For old times' sake, I implore, 

Good rumseller, let me in ! 

I had money once, and home, 
Wife, and pretty babies three; 

They are gone ; what has become 
Of them? I really cannot see. 

O rumseller! ice me in. 



24 Inventory of a Drunkard. 

m 
Some say that I broke her heart 
(Me ? she was my joy of joys !), 
That I did not do my part, 
That the poor-house holds my boys. 
O rumseller ! let me in. 

I have given you all my wealth, 

Strength, character, all, all — 
Wife, children, home, and health; 

I am tottering — / shall fall! 

O rumseller ! let me in. 

So the old man wailed and plead, 

So he shivered in despair ; 
In the morn they found him dead 
On the pavement cold and bare. 

No rumseller took him in. 

Mrs. Frances D. Gage. 



INVENTORY OF A URUNKARD, 



A pi 



A hut of logs without a door, 

Minus a roof, and ditto floor ; 

A clapboard cupboard without crocks, 

Nine children without shoes or frocks; 

A wife that has no bonnet 

With ribbons and strands upon it, 

Scolding and wishing to be dead, 

Because she has not any bread. 

A tea-kettle without a spout, 
A meat-cask with the bottom out, 
A "comfort'* with the cotton gone, 
And not a bed to put it on ; 



Duds Sermon on Malt. 25 

A handle without an :.. 

A hatcheJ without wool or flax; 

A pot-lid and a wagon-hub, 

And two ears oi' a washing tub. 

Three broken plates of different kinds, 
Some mackerel tails and bacon-rinds; 
A table without leaves or legs, 
One chair and half a dozen pegs; 
One oaken keg with hoops of brass. 
One tumbler of dark-green glass ; 
A fiddle without any strings, 
A gun-stock, and two turkey-wings. 

O readers of this inventory ! 

Take warning by a graphic story; 

For little any man expects, 

Who wears good shirts with buttons in 'em, 

Ever to put on cotton checks, 

And only have brass pins to pin 'em ! 

'Tis, remember, little stitches 

Keep the rent from growing great; 

When you can't tell beds from ditches, 

Warning words will be too late, 

Alice Cary, 



Dod's Sermon on J&alt. 

John Dod, the author of this sermon, preached it under the following cir- 
cumstances : Being on his way to London, he was met by some students of 
Oxford, who insisted on his preaching to them there, in an old hollow tree, 
from the word Malt. Having remonstrated awhile to no purpose, he en* 
tered the tree and delivered the following discourse : 

" Beloved, let me crave your attention ; for I am a little 
man, come at a short warning, to preach a brief sermon, 
upon a small subject, to a thin congregation, in an un- 



26 DocTs Sermon on Malt. 

worthy pulpit. And now, my beloved, my text is Malt, 
which I cannot divide into sentences, for it has none ; nor 
into words, for the whole matter is but a monosyllable. 
Therefore, I must of necessity divide it into letters, 
which I find in my text to be M A L T. M, my beloved, 
is Moral ; A is Allegorical ; L is Literal ; and T is Theo- 
logical. The Moral is set forth to teach you, drunkards, 
good manners ; therefore, M, my Masters, A, All of you, 
L, Listen, T, to my Text, The Allegorical is when one 
thing is spoken and another thing is meant. Now, the 
thing spoken is Malt, but the thing meant is Strong 
Beer, wherein you drunkards make M, Meat, A, Apparel, 
L, Liberty, andT, Treason. The Literal is, according to 
the letters, M, Much, A, Ale, L, Little, T, Thrift— Much 
Ale, Little Thrift. The Theological is according to the 
effects it works, which I find in my text to be of two 
kinds: ist, In this world; 2d, In the world to come. 1st, 
In this world, the effects arc, in some, M, Murder; in 
others, A, Adultery; in some, L, Looseness of Life ; and 
in others, T, Treason. 2d, In the world to come, in some, 
M, Misery; in others, A, Anguish; in some, L, Languish- 
ing; in others, T, Torment. Wherefore my use shall be 
exhortation : M, my Masters, A, All of you, L, Leave off, 
T, Tippling ; or, 2d, by way of commutation, I say, M„ my 
Masters, A, All of you, L, Look for, T, Torment. So 
much for the time and text. Only by way of caution 
take this : A drunkard is an annoyance of modesty, the 
trouble of civility, the spoil of wealth, the destruction of 
reason ; the brewer's agent, the alewife's benefactor, the 
beggar's companion, the constable's trouble, his wife's 
woe, his children's horror, his neighbor's scoff, his own 
shame, a walking swill-tub, the picture of a beast and 
monster of a man !" 



Give' us Good Laws. 27 



Give us Good Laws. 

We pray for pure and simple laws, 

Tempered with equity and right; 
Not statutes woven with the clause 

Which hides the honest fact from sight. 
In every freeman's breast a spark 

Of patriot fire with truth ignites; 
And traitors' hands upon the ark 

Are withered when the lightning smites. 

For thirty silver pieces, told 

Into his hands. Judas of yore 
Betrayed the Master ; and he sold 

His own sweet peace for evermore. 
Akin to him is he whose kiss 

Betrays constituents he scorns ; 
He crucifies with laws amiss, 

And crowns humanity with thorns ! 

When common law is common sense, 

In simple statutes plainly writ, 
It is the sword and the defence 

Of all who wisely honor it. 
The faithful legislator stands 

True as the magnet to the pole : 
No bribe shall ever stain his hands, 

No perjury pollute his soul. 

Now we, the sovereign people, plead 

For local prohibition laws; 
Not dreary documents to read, 

Not essays on effect and cause, 



28 The Temperance Millennium. 

Not points of order in debate, 

Not tactics of the partisan ; 
But just laws, for the small and great, 

To guarantee the rights of man : 

Laws that will lock the public chest, 

And seal it with a magic seal ; 
Then, like the treasure in the breast 

Of honor, which no thief can steal, 
Robbers will seek in vain to thrust 

Aside the bolt of destiny : 
Their schemes will fail ; for who will trust 

Them with the people's golden key ? 

"The good time coming" soon will come, 
When honest men with honest laws 
Shall strike the bold rumseller dumb, 

And right, not might, shall win the cause. 
Oh ! then our land indeed shall be 

Foremost among the nations brave; 
The asylum of the strong and free, 

Where stripes and stars in glory wave ! 

George W. Bungay. 



The Temperance Millennium. 

There's a shout along the temperance lines, there's 
victory in view, 

There's a mighty army forming of the faithful ones 
and true ; 

They have joined the glorious host of Him that jour- 
neyed far and long 

To receive his promised kingdom, and return with 
shout and song. 



Girls and Tobacco. 29 

Through the long, long night of ages they have wait- 
ed lor the day 

When the sun should rise in righteousness, and chase 
the gloom away ; 

N iw, " Behold the Bridegroom Cometh !" is the faith- 
ful watchman's cry, 

And the glorious day is streaming all along the east- 
ern sky. 

For the crystal stream that gushes from beneath the 

throne of God, 
Like an avalanche, shall lave the earth, shall wash it 

as a flood ; 
And the demon of destruction, and the poison of his 

cup, 
In the grandeur of its flowing shall be lost and swal- 
lowed up. 
Then the shout of white-robed millions shall re-echo 

far and near, 
And the earth in royal plenitude proclaim the jubal 

year. 
There's a shout along the temperance lines, there's 

victory in view, 
There's a mighty army forming of the faithful ones 

and true ! 



Girls and Tobacco. 



So you like the smell of a good cigar, do you ? Well, I 
have heard young ladies say so before, but I always 
thought, if I was in their place, I would not tell of it. 
Whatever you may say, nobody will think you like the 
nasty, stinking thing for its own sake. Why, it almost 
strangles me. And after my papa has been smoking, I 
would almost rather he would not kiss me sometimes. I 



30 Little Ones Like Me. 

don't believe he would want to kiss me, if he should smell 
tobacco-smoke in my breath. I am sure he would not 
call me his rose-bud again very soon. I am very certain 
men don't like tobacco-breaths in other people. 1 won- 
der if that is the reason they don't kiss each other ? 

How do I know they don't like tobacco-smoke ? Well, 
I can read some, and don't I see "No smoking" up 
around in ever so many places? And when I asked my 
papa what they did that for, he said because it was not 
nice to have tobacco-smoke from other people's mouths 
puffed into our faces. My papa said that himself. And 
then, on the ferry-boat, I see the men come flocking into 
the ladies' cabin, because their own is full of tobacco- 
smoke; but I don't see any ladies go into the men's cabin 
to get the smell of the smoke ; and they don't scent 
their handkerchiefs with it, nor put it into bouquets. I 
should think, if they like it so well, they would have es- 
sence of smoke among their Cologne bottles. 

Bah ! nobody will make me believe that a clean, sweet 
young lady cares anything about the smell of a cigar, un- 
less there is a man behind it. And the men don't believe 
it, either. They may not say so, but they keep a-thinking, 
and they think you say it to please them, the egotistical 
fellows ! Perhaps afterwards they'll say, as my brother 
Bill said the next day after you professed to like his cigar- 
smoke — he said it made him think of the young lady that 
took a few whiffs now and then when she was lonely, be- 
cause it made it smell as though there was a man around. 



Little Ones Like Me. 

When our fathers love the drink, 
Madly drown the power to think, 
Then they drive to ruin's brink 

Little ones like me. 



Little Ones Like Me. 31 

Wretched homes and meagre fare, 
Filth, disease, and clothing bare, 
Victims of these ills they are. 

Little ones like me. 

Warning by his course we'll take, 
And the drunkard's cup forsake, 
Lest his wretched fate o'ertake 

Little ones like me. 

Bands of Hope, like anchors firm, 
Hold us in temptation's storm, 
Bring to aid the world's reform 

Little ones like me. 

Like a fort when danger's nigh, 
Like a rainbow in the sky, 
Strength and hope these bands supply- 
Little ones like me. 

Floats our banner in the air, 

Its device, " Excelsior !" 

Join our band, our triumph share, 

Little ones like me. 

Truth prevails, and right decrees 
Conquest must and shall increase ; 
Bloodless are our victories ! 

Little ones like me. 

Help ! we cry, the foe is nigh ! 
Down with drink ! Let tippling die ! 
Shout aloud the victory ! 

Little ones like me ! 



32 u Licensed to Sell" 



.♦Licensed to Sell." 

Ye who, regardless of your country's good, 

Fill up your coffers with the price of blood, 

Who pour out poison with a liberal hand, 

And scatter crime and misery through the land, 

Though now rejoicing in the midst of health, 

In full possession of ill-gotten wealth, 

Yet a few days at most the hour must come 

When ye shall know the poison-seller's doom, 

And shrink beneath it ; for upon you all 

Shall man's hot curse and Heaven's vengeance falL 

In vain ye strive, with hypocritic tongue, 

To make mankind believe ye do no wrong. 

Ye know the fruits of your unrighteous trade, 

Ye see the awful havoc it has made; 

Ye pour out, men, Disease and Want and Woe, 

And then tell us ye wish it were not so ; 

But 'tis a truth, and that ye know full well, 

That some will drink as long as ye will sell. 

But here that old excuse yet meets us still, 

" If I don r t sell the poison, others will." 

Then let them sell, and you'll be none the worse ; 

They'll have the profits, and they'll have the curse* 

Bear this in mind — you have at your command 

The power to bless or power to curse the land ; 

If ye will sell, intemperance still shall roll 

Her waves of bitterness o'er many a soul : 

Still shall the wife for her lost husband mourn, 

And sigh for days that never will return ; 

Still that unwelcome sight our eyes shall greet, 

Of beggaied children strolling through the street, 

And thousands, whom our labors cannot save, 

Go trembling, reeling, tottering to the grave; 



"Licensed to Sclir 33 

Still loitering round your shops the livelong day, 
Will scores of idlers pass the hours away, 
And e'en the peaceful night, for rest ordained, 
Shall with their noisy revels be profaned; 
The poisonous cup will pass, and mirth and glee 
Gild o'er the surface of their misery : 
Uproarious laughter fill each space between 
Harsh oaths, ungodly songs, and jests obscene; 
And there you'll stand, amid the drunken throng, 
Laugh at the jest, and glory in the song. 

Pour out your poison till some victim dies, 

Then go and at his funeral wipe your eyes ; 

Join there the mourning throng with solemn face, 

And help to bear him to his burial-place. 

There stands the wife with w r eeping children round, 

While their fast-falling tears bedew the ground ; 

From many an eye the gem of pity starts, 

And many a sigh from sympathizing hearts 

Comes laboring up, and almost chokes the breath, 

While thus they gaze upon the work of death. 

The task concludes — the relics of the dead 

Are slowly settled to their damp, cold bed ; 

Come, now, draw near, my money-making friend ; 

You saw the starting — come and see the end. 

Look now into that open grave and say, 

Dost feel no sorrow, no remorse, to-day ? 

Does not your answering conscience loud declare 

That your cursed avarice has laid him there? 

Now, since the earth has closed o'er his remains, 
Turn o'er your books, and count your honest gains. 
How doth the account for his last week begin? 
" September twenty-fourth, one quart of gin." 
A like amount for each succeeding day 
Tells on your book, but wears his life away. 



34 Take Hold. 

Saturday's charge makes out the account complete: 
"To cloth, five yards, to make a winding-sheet." 
There ! all stands fair, without mistake or flaw ; 
How honest trade will thrive upheld by law ! 

Dr. Charles Jewett. 



Take Hold. 



A LARGE building had just been destroyed by fire. 
The workmen were soon busily engaged in rebuilding, 
and, as the heavy timbers were lifted to their places, you 
could hear the cry, " Take hold ! take hold !" And the 
men did take hold with a will, and the building went up 
and up until it was finished. 

Had these workmen stood idly by and paid no atten- 
tion to the command, "Take hold!" the spot where the 
building now stands would have remained covered with 
charred logs, ashes, bricks and mortar, and everything 
would have been in confusion. But not so ; they took 
their hands out of their pockets, and went to work with 
energy. 

So, my boys, it must be with you. Do you wish to ac- 
complish anything? Do you wish to rise to places of 
honor and respect in the world ? Do you wish to be spo- 
ken of as one who has risen from the bottom round in the 
ladder of life to the topmost ? Take hold. Yes, stop 
loafing and moping on the street-corners ; take your 
hands out of your pockets, and take hold with a will, and 
soon, like the building I have just described, you will be 
going upward and onward, a beautiful structure — one 
that will command the respect and admiration of all men. 

Do you wish to see the cause of temperance prosper, 
and the legions of darkness and despair driven from our 
earth ? Take hold. Do you want to see the day soon 
come when whiskey will be drunk no more, when 



The Whiskey Ring — Sober Reflections. 35 

tobacco will no more pollute the mouths of your play- 
mates, when the name A God will no more be Lakm m 
vain? Then stand not idly on the wayside waiting, los- 
ing time that is precious us rubies, but go to work ; take 
hold, pledge against smoking, against chewing, against 
swearing. Will you do it? Will the young men of 
America take hold of the great reforms that are now agi- 
tating our country, and help push them onward to vic- 
tory ? God grant it ! 



The Whiskey Ring. 

1 We must have medicine," the landlord cries, 
While whiskey-tears roll from his staring eyes, 

'Without it, half our citizens will die. 
All flesh is grass, and withers when 'tis dry." 
It rains rum now, and yet there is a drouth 
For ever in the drunkard's burning mouth. 
Unparched by w r aters pattering on the roof, 
Like oak-tanned hides, his lips are water-proof. 
His jaws extended break our laws, they say; 
He keeps a rum-hole open night and day ; 
His open mouth, a most unsavory thing, 
Reminds one of the New York Whiskey Ring. 



Sobef^ Reflections. 



If I drink what is called moderately, 1 may be led, like 
many others, to drink to excess; but if I drink none at 
all, there cannot be the least possible danger. 

If I take a little, others who follow my example, being 
weaker or not so careful as myself, may be led to drunk- 



36 Unjust Gains. 

enness ; but if I entirely abstain, I set an example which 
is safe for everybody to follow. 

If I drink but a little, and keep a small stock for my 
friends in the way of hospitality, it will cost a consider- 
able sum of money; but abstinence is a cheap system, 
;md tends to promote economy among all over whom it 
may exercise any influence. 

If I take my glass, I cannot reprove nor recommend my 
own example to the drunkard with effect ; but if I am a 
total abstainer, I can do so with confidence and a hope of 
success. 



Unjust Gains. 

Prov. xxviii. 8. 

"By unjust gain !" " By unjust gain !" 
It was the rumseller's refrain 
When called to leave his vast domain — 

" By unjust gain I " 

I felt no pity for the poor, 

I drove them harshly from my door 

While taking from their little store 

My "unjust gain." 

My goods an unseen Hand will deal 
To him who for the weak can feel, 
Nor from his pittance meanly steal 

By " unjust gain !" 

Now, as I go to meet the fate 

Of those who hope to reach heaven's gate, 

I'm haunted by the words — "Too late" 

And " Unjust gain!" 
Mrs. J. P. Ballard. 



Christian Responsibility. 37 



Christian Responsibility. 

CHRISTIANS, patriots, men of humanity! will you not 
come along with us to their rescue — those who, mis- 
guided by the example and emboldened by the counsel 
of others, have ventured onward in a course which 
threatens to prove fatal alike to their health, their happi- 
ness, and their salvation ? 

Will yju not, in place of casting additional impedi- 
ments in the way of their return, contribute to remove 
those which already exist, and which, without such assis- 
tance, they will remain for ever alike unable to surmount 
or remove ? 

On your part, the sacrifice will be small ; on theirs, the 
benefit conferred immense — a sacrifice not, indeed, with- 
out requital ; for you shall share the joy of their rejoicing 
friends on earth and their rejoicing friends in heaven, 
who, when celebrating their return to God, shall say, 
"This, our son, our brother, our neighbor, was lost and 
is found ; was dead and is alive again." 

In view of the prevailing usages of the society in which 
you live, and the obvious inroads drunkenness is making 
on that society ; in view of that frightful number of min- 
isters at the altar, and advocates at the bar, whom 
drunkenness, robbing the church and the world of their 
services, has demented and dishonored ; in view of those 
master-spirits in the field and the Senate Chamber, whom 
drunkenness has mastered; in view of those families 
made wretched, those youth corrupted, and those poor- 
houses, and prison-houses, and graveyards peopled — and 
peopled with beings made guilty and wretched by drunk- 
enness — I put it to your conscience, Christians, whether, 
at such a time and under such circumstances, you would 
be at liberty, though supplied with wine made from the 
grapes of Eschol, to use it as a beverage ? 



38 A Mission. 

In conclusion, I ask, Christians, whether you are not 
bound, by the very circumstances in which God has 
placed you, to refrain from the use of intoxicating liquors, 
of every name and nature, as a beverage, and whether 
you can, without sin, refuse to give your influence to 
the cause of total abstinence ? Dr. Nott. 



A /* 



ISSION, 



Small as I am, I've a mission below — 
A mission that widens, and grows as I grow. 
'Tis to let alone cider, and brandy, and gin ; 
'Tis to keep well away from those potions of sin. 

'Tis to make myself noble, and manly, and true ; 
'Tis to touch no tobacco, not smoke and not chew 
That unhealthy weed that true women detest, 
And all people know is a filthy old pest. 

' Tis to say unto all, what I say unto you, 

Let these things alone, if you would be true. 

They are foes to all virtue, they lead down to shame— 

Shun drink and tobacco, and keep your good name. 

Cold water that comes from the well is my drink, 
The healthiest, purest, and sweetest, I think. 
It never makes drunkards, it never brings woe — 
I'll praise it and drink it wherever I go. 

Ella Wheeler. 



Tett Reasons — The Terrible Drink. 39 



Ten Reasons 

WHY CHILDREN AND YOUTH SHOULD SIGN THE PLEDGE. 

i. It will lead them to enquire what ardent spirit, 
wine, and beer drinking does. 

2. It will lead them to resolve that theirs shall not 
be the drunkard's end. 

3. It will teach them their moral and free agency, and 
that they are to be actors for themselves in future life. 

4. It will cause them to feel, as they never have felt 
before, their own responsibility. 

5. It will give them a new and permanent interest in 
the temperance cause. 

6. It will preserve them most effectually from the 
enticements of the wine-cup. 

7. It will prevent their being urged to drink by 
others. 

8. It will make them good examples for others. 

9. It will bring them out and embody them as a 
temperance army — a Band of Hope. 

10. It will make them active and bold to gather in 
others and extend the cause. 



The Terrible Drink. 

Oh ! the drink, the terrible drink, 
Making each town and city a sink 
Of misery, dire and fearful to tell 
Of the numberless victims sent to hell. 
Swearing, 

Killing, 

Crimes no lack. 
The terrible drink makes night so black, 



40 King Alcohol. 

The curse of youth and decrepit age, 
Adding to thirst instead of assuage; 
Continual drink the drunkard's crave, 
Till it drags him down to an early grave. 

Oh ! the drink, the horrible drink ! 
See the child from its father shrink 
As he staggers home from the night's debauch, 
Blindly, 

Wildly, 

Stumbling along, 
Crazed with drink, intent on wrong; 
And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound, 
Growl at the man as he gropes around ! 
This is the picture, deny it who can, 
Of the downward steps of fallen man. 

Once he was free from the vice, but he fell — 
Fell, like the angels, from heaven to hell — 
Fell, to be mocked at, scoffed at, and beat, 
Mingling with filth in the horrible street. 
Pleading, 

Cursing, 

Dreading the worst, 
Drinking still deeper, yet greater the thirst, 
Till he sickens and falls, degraded and low\ 
Merciful God ! in thy goodness save 
Thine own image from a drunkard's grave. 



King Alcohol. 



The history of King Alcohol is a history of shame 
and corruption, of cruelty, crime, rage, and ruin. 

He has taken the glory of health from the cheek, 
and placed there the reddish hue of the wine-cup. 



King Alcohol. 41 

He has taken the lustre from the eye, and made it 
dim and bloodshot. 

He has taken beauty and comeliness from the face, 

-1 left it ill shapen and bloated. 

Ho has taken strength from the limbs, and made 
tlicm weak and tottering. 

lie has taken firmness and elasticity from the steps, 
and made them faltering and treacherous. 

lie has taken vitality from the blood, and filled it 
With poison and seeds of disease and death. 

He has taken the impress of manhood from off the 
face, and left the marks of sensuality and brutishness. 

He has bribed the tongue to madness and cursing. 

He has turned the hands from deeds of usefulness to 
become instruments of brutality and murder. 

He has broken the ties of friendship, and planted 
seeds of enmity. 

He has made a kind, indulgent father a brute, a ty- 
rant, a murderer. 

He has transformed the loving mother into a very 
fiend of brutish incarnation. 

He has taken luxuries from off the table, and com- 
pelled men to cry on account of famine, and beg for 
bread. 

He has stripped backs of the broadcloth and silk, 
and clothed them with rags. 

He has taken away acres, and given not even a de- 
cent burial-place in death. 

He has crowded our courts, and filled to overflowing 
our penitentiaries and houses of correction. 

He has peopled our poor-houses, and straitened us 
for room in our insane asylums. 

He has filled our world with tears and groans, with 
the poor and helpless, with wretchedness and want. 



42 Smoking and Snuffing — Strong Drink. 



Smoking and Snuffing. 

I'll never be a smoker, nor fill my nose with snuff ; 
Of practices so filthy I've seen and heard enough. 
SnufFtaking it is foolish, and smoking, perhaps, is 

worse ; 
Some say the pipe's a blessing, but oft it proves a 

curse. 
With vile tobacco odor the smoker taints his clothes, 
And with a dirty powder snuff takers spoil the nose. 

These appetites degrading through life I will avoid, 
And in examples brighter I'll try to find a guide; 
No rational enjoyment in such habits can be found, 
For the smoker is a nuisance to non-smoking friends 

around ; 
He wastes both health and money as puffing on he 

goes, 
And the snufF-taker imposes a tax upon his nose, 



STRONG JRINK. 



P 1 



The cruel wrongs "Strong Drink" hath wrought, the 

crime, disease, and woe, 
The hearts and homes made desolate, what human 

mind can know ? 
Oh! count them by the drops of rain that from the 

heavens pour ; 
Or count them by each tiny grain of sand upon the 

shore. 



Death and Drinking, 43 

Count them by the myriad leaves that wave 'twixt 

earth and sky, 
Including all the flowers that each summer bloom and 

die ; 
Or by the feathered host that fills the earth with 

songs of mirth ; 
Or count them by each blade of grass that beautifies 

the earth. 

Then take the ocean out in drops, and count each one 

a tear, 
Make every puff of wind that blows a human sigh 

appear ; 
And then add up thy fearful list, nor look aghast, nor 

shrink ! 
For it is but a shadow of the truth concerning drink. 



JEATH AND JRINKING. 



P £ 



Life is God's gift. It is a great gift. We value it above 
all riches. In case of danger, all that a man hath will he 
give for his life. It is the period measured by Provi- 
dence, during which all the pleasures and happiness of 
humanity are to be enjoyed, and all its duties to be per- 
formed. Oh ! what folly to be constantly attacking, mu- 
tilating, and destroying that most precious of all jewels! 
Ninety-nine out of every hundred die sooner than they 
would by violating the laws of health and longevity, and 
a vast proportion do not live out half their days. Every 
unnatural stimulant helps to bring them nearer to the 
grave. Of all the other causes, the use of intoxicating 
liquor is the most powerful. Drinkers destroy the plea- 
sures of life ; nay, they cut off a great portion of it as ef- 
fectually as if they laid their necks upon the block, and 



44 No Drunkards There. 

struck the fatal blow with their own hands. Nature 
truly bears up under a great deal of torture from strong 
drink; but at last it gives way, and often suddenly. 
Could we examine the progress of disease internally, we 
should be able to trace its insidious progress in every 
one who drinks strong drink even moderately. Indeed, 
an occasional bout of drunkenness does not harass the 
system near so much as the daily or frequent drinking of 
a few glasses in moderation. 

Moderate drinkers, hear! The human slaughter pro- 
duced by drinking is terrible. Are you not answerable 
for much of it? Do you not by your little drops praise 
the drink and favor the drinking system ? And do you 
not, by this habit, obstruct the progress of the tempe- 
rance reformation ? For humanity's sake, do not murder 
yourselves by inches ; and for God's sake, do not encour- 
age others to do so by a bad example ! 



No Drunkards There. 

There is a beautiful land, we are told, 
With rivers of silver and streets of gold ; 
Bright are the beings whose shining feet 
Wander along each quiet street ; 
Sweet is the music that fills the air — 
No drunkards are there. 



No garrets are there, where the weary wait, 
Where the room is cold and the hours are late; 
No pale-faced wife, with looks of fear, 
Listens for steps she dreads to hear. 
The hearts are free from pain and care — 
No drink is sold there. 



Tobacco. 45 

All the long day, in that beautiful land, 
The clear waters ripple o'er beds of sand ; 
And down on the edge of the water's brink, 
Those white-robed beings wander, nor shrink 
Nor fear the power of the tempter's snare ; 
For no wine is there. 

Father! look down from thy throne, I pray; 
Hasten, oh ! hasten the glorious day ; 
Help us to work as a temperance band 
To drive the demon away from the land ; 
Teach us to say we will dry every tear 

Which drink makes flow here. 



T 



OBACCO. 



There's naught exceeds 
The filth that from a chewer's mouth proceeds; 
Two ounces chewed a day, 'tis said, produce 
A full half-pint of vile tobacco-juice, 
Which, if counted iive-and-twenty years 
(As from a calculation it appears), 
With this foul stuff would near five hogsheads fill, 
Besides old quids a larger parcel still. 
Nor am I with this calculation done : 
He in that time has chewed full half a ton— 
A wagon-load of that which would of course 
Sicken a dog or even kill a horse. 
Could he foresee, but at a single view, 
What he was in his life destined to chew, 
And then the products of his work survey, 
He would grow sick, and throw his quid away. 
Or could the lass, ere she had pledged to be 
His loving wife, her future prospects see ; 



46 Onward. 

Could she but see that through his mouth would 

pass, 
In this short life, this dirty, loathsome mass, 
Would she consent to take his hand for life, 
And, wedded to his filth, become his wife? 
And if she would, say, where's that pretty miss 
That envies her the lip she has to kiss ? 



ONWARD. 



Onward ! onward ! band victorious, 

Rear the temperance banner high ; 
Thus far hath your course been glorious, 

Now your day of triumph's nigh. 
Vice and error flee before you 

As the darkness flies the sun ; 
Onward ! victory hovers o'er you, 

Soon the battle will be won. 

Lo, what multitudes despairing — 

Widows, orphans, heirs of woe ! 
And the slaves, their fetters wearing, 

Reeling madly to and fro. 
Mercy, justice, both entreat you 

To destroy their bitter foe ; 
Christians, patriots, good men greet you, 

To the conflict bravely go. 

To the vender and distiller 

Thunder truth with startling tone; 

Swell the accents louder, shriller, 
Make the guilt enormous known. 



Power of Organization. 47 

Onward ! onward ! never falter, 

Cease not till the earth is free ; 
Swear, on temperance's holy altar, 

Death is yours or victory ! 



Powef^ of Organization. 

There is always power enough to enforce a wise law, if 
it can but be organized and made available. 

There must be organization for the enforcement of the 
law, with sufficient and salutary penalties. Good men 
must organize. 

There are thousands of places in great cities where 
men drink frenzy by the half-pint, all of which depend 
for revenue upon the vice and misery they can create 
and the number of victims they can destroy. These 
shops must close, or misery and murder, debauchery and 
rags, filth and squalor, must haunt your streets at all 
hours and all seasons. They die fast, too, the devotees 
of the demijohn. Every year must yield a large crop of 
recruits, newly seduced from sobriety, or the venders' 
receipts will fail. They will take anybody's husband — 
yours, madam; anybody's son — yours, doting father; 
anybody's parent — yours, my dear boy. They will take 
them from you, hale, and fond, and true, and send them 
back to you bleared, and blasphemous, and beastly. 
They will blight five thousand new homes this year. 
Five thousand firesides will grow chill and cheerless, or 
there will be "hard times" among the death-dealers. 
And you must live, toil, eat, even sleep, under the sha- 
dow of a nameless fear. Your sons cannot walk the 
streets, or stroll in the parks, or visit the house of a 
friend, but you are haunted with thoughts that hold 
your eyes waking. Your daughters, if out of your sight, 



48 The Little Shoes. 

are on your heart like a brooding anxiety. You feel like 
men who know that a busy band of sappers and miners 
are laying casks of powder underneath their dwellings, 
and they know not the moment when their domestic hea- 
ven will be blown in fragments to the sky. It is worse 
than though cholera, and spotted fever, and black vomit, 
and the deadliest types of small-pox were to linger on 
every by-street and along your great avenues all the 
year round, pulsing in the poisoned air, climbing in at 
your windows, smiting the first-born in his pride and 
the babe in the cradle, keeping the sick-lamp for ever 
burning like a pale star in every habitation. 

Oh ! are we to live on in this mortal peril ? Are we al- 
ways to stand in dread of a great calamity ? Are we so 
enslaved, so torpid, so timorous? Who will make com- 
mon cause against the most insidious and malignant foe 
to our peace and our liberties? Come as with one im- 
pulse, fair women and brave men, all who dare to be 
right and true. Duty and danger, love and law, patriot* 
ism and philanthropy, call us. Let us support sentiment 
and advice with the emphasis of a faultless example. 

Rev. M. C. Briggs. 



The Little Shoes. 

Some months ago — I need not mention where — 

There was a meeting in a temperance hall, 
And many a working-man assembled there ; 

Among them sat a man, well dressed and tall, 
Who listened anxiously to every word, 

Until one near spoke to him thuG : 
"Come, William Turner, I have never heard 

How that you changed so much ; so tell to us 
Why you gave up the public-house ? Ah ! few, 

I'm sure, can tell so strange a tale as vou." 



The Little Shoes. 49 

Up rose William at the summons, 
Glanced confusedly round the hall, 

Cried, with voice of deep emotion, 
"The little shoes— they did it all! 



"One night, on the verge of ruin. 
As 1 hurried from the tap, 
I beheld the landlord's baby 
Sitting in its mother's lap. 

"'Look, dear father,' said the mother 
Holding forth the little feet ; 
4 Look, we've got new shoes for darling! 
Don't you think them nice and neat?' 

" Ye may judge the thing is simple, 
Disbelieve me if you choose ; 
But, my friends, no fist e'er struck me 
Such a blow as those small shoes. 

" And they forced my brain to reason: 
* What right/ said I, standing there, 
* Have I to clothe another's children, 
And to let my own go bare ? 

" It was in the depth of winter, 
Bitter was the night, and wild ; 
And outside the flaring gin-shop 
Stood my starving wife and child. 

" Out I went, and clutched my baby, 
Saw its feet so cold and blue ; 
Fathers ! if the small shoes smote me, 
What did those poor bare feet do ? 



5<3 Anti-Catawba. 

" Quick I thrust them in my bosom 5 
Oh ! they were so icy chill ! 
And their coldness, like a dagger, 
Pierced me — I can feel it still. 

"Of money I had hut a trifle, 

Just enough to serve my stead; 
It bought shoes- for little baby 
And a single loaf of bread. 

"That loaf served us all the Sunday, 
And I went to work next day. 
Since that time I've been teetotal- 
That is all I've got to say/' 



Anti-Catawba. 

REPLY TO LONGFELLOW'S " CATAWBA WINE,** 

Poet Longfellow sings, in his lyric for kings. 

The praise of Catawba wine ; 
Catawba, he thinks, is the nectar of drinks, 

An elixir— semi-divine. 

Did it ne'er strike the poet — if not, he should know it-* 
Though bards are not always deep thinkers, 

That wine, as the first step, is often the worst step 
That's taken by alcohol drinkers. 

No song will I sing you, no wreath will I bring you. 

Ensanguined with blood of the vine ; 
The ruby-red bowl, death to body and soul, 

Shall be eulogy, never, of mine i 



Agitate ; or> The Two Masters. 51 

For many a mother, wife, sister, and brother, 

The past and the present reviewing, 
Can trace to red wine, that fell spirit malign, 

That led to a loved one's undoing. 

Then sing no more verses whose sweet sound re- 
hearses 

The praise of Catawba wine ; 
Sing of beauty and flowers, and rosy-wreathed bowers, 

But not of the juice of the vine ! 

Sing the praises of water — earth's diamond-eyed daugh- 
ter, 

The belle of the elements too — 
Of moss-covered fountains, of forest-clad mountains, 

Of faith, hope, and charity too ! 

Sing the death-wail of battle, whilst war's dying rattle 
Sinks deep to the doom that it merits ; 

And peace, all victorious, rises sun-like and glorious, 
To reign o'er the land she inherits ! 

Great bard of our nation ! men yield thee oblation, 

Fame's laurels thy temples entwine ; 
Add still to thy glory, live ever in story, 

But not in thy song to the vine ! 

Joseph Merrefield. 



Agitate ; of^. The Two Masters. 

Agitation is the only lever of this century; it is the 
great engineer of the time. It is the grand dynamic 
force by which the whole people are to be lifted up to a 
higher and a nobler level — the level of honorable self-re- 
spect, the result of self control. The people are always 



5 2 Agitate ; or, The Two Masters. 

right in the long run. You may deceive them for a time; 
their own appetites and their own passions may lead 
them astray for a while ; hut the moment } r ou set the 
American people thinking, you set them in that straight 
and narrow path which leads to the Zion that lies before. 
Now, we have had two masters in our country, and they 
have ruled us for a long while with an iron hand. We 
have been terribly afraid of their grim visages. The one 
is dead and buried. He was dethroned some years ago. 
He was dethroned when Lee gave the handle of his 
sword to General Grant. You could hear the clank of 
his chain all over the South ; it was the slavery of the 
body, as well as that of the mind and soul. The din of 
its harsh music reached our ears, and for many, many 
years we agitated and agitated, setting this audience to 
thinking now, and to-morrow that audience ; some of our 
apostles being sealed and ordained to their work by the 
ministries of Croton, brickbats, and rotten eggs ; but at 
last the mine was fired, at last the explosion came, at last 
a million of freemen in the North took it into their own 
hands, and, dressing into line, walked from the Ohio to 
the Gulf, and left behind them only freemen wherever 
they trod ! The chains dropped ; and now the country 
has forgotten the clank of the chain, and it remembers 
only that it has inscribed upon the folds of its flag the 
better, nobler, and grander word — Liberty ! But there 
is another master remaining. It was a double throne 
that ruled us ; it was a double tyranny to which we bow- 
ed. One tyrant has descended, his throne is levelled 
with the earth ; but the other sits there. The other 
frowns from his lordly palace ; the other utters from his 
iron, sarcastic lips those words which were uttered by 
one of your public officials a few months since, " What 
are you going to do about it ?" We answered that ques- 
tion months ago. We propose to answer the next ques- 
tion in the course of a few months. The tyrant who now 
sits enthroned shall follow in the wake of the tyrants 



Work and Pray. 53 

who have been dethroned. Ours is a work the result of 
which is a "God bless you !" heaped upon some prayer- 
ful apostle ; the " God bless you ! " coming from widows 
hearts, coming from orphans' lips, coming from men 
who are redeemed from drunkenness and lifted up to the 
higher level of their noblest manhood ! Now, what we 
are trying to do is simply to match the devil ; we are try- 
ing to work in the line of God's eternal providence ; we 
are trying to work in the divine line of the teaching of 
the Sermon on the Mount ; we are trying to teach the 
world that 

" A man's a man for a' that ; " 

that it is not poverty which disgraces a man, that it is 
not always wealth which honors a man, that there is a 
nobility on the earth, and there is a nobility in the midst 
of our republic. He is noble who controls himself; he 
is noble who holds himself well in hand, and, like a blood 
horse, is doing his utmost and saving his strength going 
along the high-road to win the race at last. That is the 
object which w r e have in view, and the only one ; and 
every man who signs the pledge and keeps it cheats the 
devil, while the angels praise God and say, " Our brother 
was lost, and is found ; our brother was dead, but now 
he is alive again." Rev. Geo. H. Hepworth. 



¥ 



ork and Prat. 



There's a feeling stronger growing; 

Push away ! 
There's a stream of reason flowing ; 

Work and pray ; 
There's a spirit having birth, 
Robed in truth and moral worth, 
That shall purify the earth 

In the future day. 



54 Wine is a Mocker. 

Aid the movement, every preacher; 

Push away ! 
Aid it, every Sunday teacher; 

Work and pray ; 
Aid it, hosts of Christian men, 
Pulpit, platform, press, and pen, 
Eden's flowers shall bloom again 

In the future day. 

Aid it, every wisdom-seeker ; 

Push away ! 
Strong drink's power is growing weaker; 

Work and pray ; 
Work ! the happy era nears 
That shall stay its groans and fears ; 
There will be no drink-caused tears 

In the future day. 

Help ! they are your erring neighbors 

Led astray. 
Heaven is smiling on your labors ; 

Work and pray ; 
Help the paradise to make, 
Help ! for human life's at stake, 
Help ! oh ! help for mercy's sake 

On the happier day. 



Wine is a Mocker 



There is a mocker, aged and diseased, 
Yet with him still are all the nations pleased; 
He hath a charm for sickness and for health, 
For heat or cold, for poverty or wealth. 
When grandeur asks him in her stately rooms, 
A foreign name and title he assumes ; 



A Moderate Drinker s Soliloquy. 55 

When plebeians call their common friend to see 

His plain appellative begins with B (bee?) ; 

And yet, despite his price*, or age, or name, 

The spirit that inspires him is the same. 

Accursed spirit! that throughout all time 

Hath been the friend of every flagrant crime, 

Is there a villain who would dare proceed 

Without its aid to do some fearful deed? 

Is there recorded one more shameful blot 

Of deepest dye, and this foul fiend was not? 

Hark ! there ascends a sad, despairing cry 

From those who have been duped and slain thereby 

" Look not upon it!" Inspiration writes: 

"At last the adder stings, the serpent bites." 

" Wine is a mocker /" If that still be true. 

Its modern substitutes are mockers too. 



A M.oderate Drinker's Soliloquy, 

I own I am shocked at the traffic in drink ; 
Of all our sad sights, 'tis the saddest, I think, 
To see men besotted, betrayed, and degraded, 
Their happiness blighted, their reason invaded. 

I wish it were altered, but / can't begin ; 
For how can I give up my brandy and gin ? 
Especially brandy, so useful, you see — 
What! give up our spirits, and only drink tea? 

Besides, if I do, the neighbors will say, 
" He's turned a teetotaler ; we'd best stop away. ' 
They'll laugh at my scruples, and call me a flat; 
And I can bear anything rather than that. 



56 The Rottemtess of Moderation. 

If Brown, Jones, and Robinson all would agree: 
To give up the drink, 'twould be easy for me ; 
But whilst they keep mixing and taking a drop, 
I don't see why / should be called on to stop. 

It is true that Brown's nose is exceedingly red, 
But he says that the drink never gets to his head; 
And that's very likely, for I should suppose 
It can't reach his brain if it stops at his nose. 

And Jones has been having a touch of the gou + . 
And finds it an effort to hobble about ; 
It's strange if the mixture that reddens Brown's nose 
Should also be found to affect Jones's toes. 

And Robinson lately has had an affection 
That's given his features a golden complexion ; 
And the doctor declares he's had brandy enough, 
And prescribes for his case " Aqua Pura, Quant. Suff." 

If the evils of drinking alike can be seen 

In the face, in the feet, in the liver and spleen, 

Spite of B., J. and R. an abstainer I'll be, 

And no one shall ever learn drinking from me. 

R. Hooper, 



The Rottenness of Moderation. 

Now, there are some who cannot drink moderately ; 
therefore, moderation is not a safe example for all. Then 
you will draw the line somewhere ? Yes, those who can- 
not drink moderately must give it up, Then we say to 
you who can drink moderately, will you give it up to 
help them? That is the point. It is hard for some young 
men to give it up, and bear the sneers, and shrugs, and 



The Rottenness of Moderation* 57 

laughter. One said to me, " I would rather stand up and 
run the risk of a rifle-bullet at a hundred paces than 
stand the jeers of my comrades in the barrack-room." 
There is many a man in this room who would not dare 
to kneel down beside his bed and do as his mother 
taught him when a boy, if halt* a dozen jeering, ungodly, 
Witty companions were present. Why? He is afraid of 
them! Afraid of what ? Afraid of the laughter! How 
is it? A young man goes into society; he feels he is 
drinking too much ; he feels he is one of those who can't 
stand it ; he feels that its influence on the brain is fas- 
cinating, and he gets bewildered by it. In the morning, 
when, perhaps, he kneels and asks God's blessing on him 
for the day, he says, "I will be careful; I will be care- 
ful." Why not give it up altogether, sir? There is the 
pinch. He goes into society. Perhaps some young 
men meet together. "Well, Charle)^ how d'ye do?" 
" I'm pretty well." " Will you have a glass of wine ? 
Here are five or six of us taking a glass ; won't you join 
us ?" He wants it. The appetite is forming. He would 
like it. He knows its exhilarations, but he says, " No, 
I thank you ; I will not take it." "Not take it? What 
is the matter with you? Are you ill?" "Oh! no, I am 
not ill." " Come and take a glass with us." He wants it. 
'No, no, thank you, the fact is, I've — " They all have 
their glasses in their hands, and he is sensitive. He 
shrinks from anything like ridicule. "No," he sz.ys, " I 
have decided that I won't drink any more." " What ! 3^ou 
have been and joined the teetotalers? Well, upon my 
word ! Are you- arc you — are you a teetotaler?" Now, sir, 
you said teetotalers are cowards. It requires more moral 
courage than some of you have got to stand up with half 
a dozen drinking young men, and say, " 1 am a teetotaler. 5 ' 
Let him say it, and what then ? He will hear the laugh, 
"Ah ! ah ! ah ! Well, really, we shall have you with a medal 
and a blue ribbon by-and-by ! Have you joined the Band 
of Hope ? Oh ! ah ! yes ; go along with you ! Well, it is 



58 Wide Awake. 

a very good thing for a man if he cannot govern himself. 
It is the best thing a man can do if he is weak-minded. 
If I were a weak-minded man, and could not govern my- 
self, I would be a teetotaler ; but you and I, Jim, and 
Dick, and Tom, can take care of ourselves ; there is a 
po»r fellow that cannot.'* Do you suppose he will stand 
that? I don't expect to make all teetotalers that hear me 
now; but if I can say one word to induce you to keep 
back the sneer when you see a man adopt a safe princi- 
ple for his own sake, I shall be thankful. If I cannot 
make you teetotalers, if I can induce you to lay your hand 
on the shoulder of the next young man that in company 
refuses to drink wine, and to say, " That is right, my 
man ; it is a safe principle !" then it will be worth all the 
effort ; for young men are kept out of the movement 
more by the fear of ridicule than even by their love of 
drink up to a certain point. John B. Gough. 



j 



ide Awake. 



There's a labor to be wrought, 
There's a race that we must run, 

There's a battle to be fought, 
And a victory to be won 

For a cheated nation's sake ! 
Ho ! ye people, plundered all 
By the slaves of alcohol, 

Rouse, the demon's arm to break ; 

Wide awake, boys ! wide awake ! 

In the councils of the great, 
In the hovels of the low, 

In the very halls of state, 
Sits the desolating foe ; 



Ttie Cry of the Earth. 59 

Only human life can slake 

His infernal thirst for blood; 

Up, yc virtuous brotherhood, 
Smite him till his vassals quake; 
Wide awake, boys ! wide awake ! 

See him, in the holy place, 

Lurking in the blessed wine; 
Glancing through the bridal lace, 

How iiis deadly eyeballs shine! 
Coiling like a venomed snake 

In the parlor's social ring, 

Strength and beauty feel his sting. 
Hurl him to his burning lake! 
Wide awake, boys ! wide awake ! 

Where the dens of haggard crime 

Draw the wretch to deeper shame, 
Loathsome in his evil slime, 

Blacker vices than we name 
Of the demon's cup partake ; 

All his garnered fruits are there, 

Bathing in the poisoned air. 
Through his fen quick clearance make; 
Wide awake, boys ! wide awake ! 

Geo. S. Burleigh. 



The Cry of the Earth. 

"O God!" sighs the grain, as it goldens the hills, 
And waves, like the sea, in the meadows below, 

"Oh! why should I poison the stream in the stills? 
Or change the pure water to currents of woe ?" 



60 The Cry of the Earth. 

"Why," murmurs the corn on the slopes of the plains, 
" Should my sweetness and strength be perverted to 

crime ? 
My health-giving juices be tortured to pains ? 
My nurture be tainted with fetor and slime?" 



'Ah!" moan the rich fruits on the bountiful trees, 
"Why, mortals, destroy us, brute passions to feed? 
Is the chief end of fruitage the drunkard to please ? 
Is the grape yet to grow for the wine-seller's 
greed ?" 



Do the sun, air, and rain come to earth in their 
wrath ? 

Does God till the ground for a vintage of blood? 
Is the demon of hatred in every path ? 

Lurks the spirit of murder in every flood?" 



" No ! no !" saith a voice from the infinite space, 
Encircling the earth, an omnipotent train ; 

" Love, peace, and good-will for the whole human 
race ! 
Our God, our Creator, makes nothing in vain ! 



Tis man, guilty man ! in his passion and pride, 
Who poisons the fountain of life at its flow ! 

A drunkard engulfed in the merciless tide, 
He is sinking, by millions, to ruin and woe !" 

Rev. Charles Wheeler Penison. 



The Reform will Go On. 61 



The Reform Will Go On. 

INTEMPERANCE is not a mere local affair, but strikes at 
the very vitals of the nation. The liquor traffic is the 
fruitful source of woe, crime, misery, taxation, pauperism, 
and death. 

Bear me witness if I exaggerate when I say that the 
country is rapidly becoming one vast grog-shop, to which 
half a million of its youth are yearly introduced, and over 
whose threshold sixty thousand are annually carted to a 
drunkard's grave. The streets of our cities echo to the 
shouts and oaths of drunken revellers, from whom socie- 
ty seeks protection through police regulations ; and with- 
in hovel and mansion alike, not entirely smothered either 
by physical fear or social pride, is heard the sound of in- 
sane violence and wailing. 

There are some who say the temperance movement is 
a sentimental affair, and that the reform will not go on. 
The reform will go on. Point me to a reform which ever 
stopped. Why, reform is motion, and motion cease- 
lessly acted upon by the impulse of acceleration ; so is it 
with the temperance movement. From whatever stand- 
point you look at it, it is seen to be in exact harmony 
with the age ; nay, it is a part of the age itself. The 
great civil revolution is to be supplemented with a great 
social revolution. God has so written it down. He has 
blessed the efforts of its friends until it has already tak- 
en a strong hold on the popular heart. Its champions 
are not fanatics; they are not sentimentalists ; only terri- 
bly in earnest. Back ot them are memories which will 
not let them pause. Broken circles and ruined altars, 
and fallen roof-trees, and the cold, sodden ashes of once 
genial fires, urge them on. No fear such men and wo- 
men will falter, until you can take out of the human mind 



62 The Reform will Go On. 

painful recollection ; until you can make the children 
forget the follies and vices of the parents, over which 
they mounted to usefulness and to honor ; until the 
memory will surrender from its custody the oaths of 
drunken blasphemy and the pains of brutal violence ; 
until you can do these things, no man, no combination 
of men, can stop this reform. Its cause lies deep as hu- 
man feeling itself. It draws its current from sources em- 
bedded in the very fastnesses of man's nature. The re- 
form, then, will go on. It will go on because its princi- 
ples are correct and its progress beneficent. The wave 
which has been gathering force and volume for these 
fifty years will continue to roll, because the hand of the 
Lord is under and back of it, and the denunciations of its 
opponents, and the bribed eloquence of the unprincipled, 
cannot check, no, nor retard, the onward movement of 
its flow. Upon the white crest of it thousands will be 
lifted to virtue and honor, and thousands more who put 
themselves in front of it will be submerged and swept 
away. The crisis through which this reform is passing 
will do good. It will make known its friends, and un- 
rnask its foes. The concussions above and around us 
will purify the atmosphere ; and when the clouds have 
parted and melted away, we shall breathe purer air and 
behold sunnier skies. 

We know not, indeed, what is ahead ; what desertion 
of apparent friends may occur ; what temporary defeat 
we may have to bear ; nor against what intrigues we may 
be called upon to guard. For one, I count on the oppo- 
sition of parties. I anticipate the double-dealing of po- 
litical leaders. The cause more than once may be betray- 
ed into the hands of its foes ; more than once be desert- 
ed by those who owe to it whatever of prominence they 
have. But these reflections do not move me. They stir 
no ripple of fear on the surface of my hope. No good 
cause can ever be lost by the faithlessness of the unfaith- 
ful ; no true principle of government overthrown by the 



The Rain-Drops, 63 

opposition of its enemies ; nor the progress of any reform, 
sanctioned by God and promotive of human weal, long 
retarded by any force or combination which can be mar- 
shalled against it. Over throne and proud empires the 
Gospel has marched, treading bayonets, and banners, and 
emblems of royalty proudly under its feet ; and out of that 
Gospel no principle or tendency essential to the king- 
dom that is yet to be established on the earth can be se- 
lected so weak or so repugnant to fallen men as not to 
receive, ere the coming of that kingdom, its triumphant 
vindication. On this rock I plant my feet, and from its 
elevation contemplate the future, as a traveller gazes 
upon a landscape waving in golden-headed fruitfulness 
underneath the azure of a cloudless sky. 



The Rain-Drops. 



A farmer had a field of corn of rather large extent, 
In tending which, with anxious care, much time and 

toil he spent ; 
But after working long and hard, he saw, with grief 

and pain, 
His corn began to droop and fade, because it wanted 

rain. 

So sad and restless was his mind, at home he could 
not stop, 

But to his field repaired each day to view his wither- 
ing crop. 

One day, when he stood looking up, despairing, at the 
sky, 

Two little rain-drops in the clouds his sad face chanc- 
ed to spy. 



64 The Rain-Drops. 

" I very sorry feel," said one, "to see him look so sad; 
I wish I could do him some good ; indeed, I should 

be glad. 
Just see the trouble he has had ; and if it should not 

rain, 
Why, all his toil, and time, and care he will have 

spent in vain." 

"What use are you," cried number two, "to water 

so much ground? 
You're nothing but a drop of rain, and could not 

wet one mound." 
" What you have said," his friend replied, " I know 

is very true ; 
But I'm resolved to do my best, and more I cannot do. 

I'll try to cheer his heart a bit; so now I'm off — here 

goes ! " 
And down the little rain-drop fell upon the farmer's 

nose. 
" Whatever's that?" the farmer cried. "Was it a drop 

of rain ? 
I do believe it's come at last ; I have not watched in 

vain." 

Now, when the second rain-drop saw his willing friend 

depart, 
Said he, " I'll go as well, and try to cheer the farmer's 

heart." 
But many rain-drops by this time had been attracted out, 
To see and hear what their two friends were talking 

so about. 

" We'll go as well," a number cried, "as our two friends 

have gone. 
We shall not only cheer his heart, but water, too, his 

corn. 



Going Down-Hill. 65 

We're off! we're off!" they shout with glee, and down 

they fell so fast. 
"O bless the Lord!" the farmer cried, "the rain has 

come at last." 



The corn it grew and ripened well, and into food was 

dressed, 
Because a little rain-drop said, "I'll try, and do my 

best." 
This little lesson, children dear, you'll not forget I'm 

sure ; 
Try, do your best, do what you can — angels can do 

no more. 

T. H. Evans. 



Going Down-Mill. 



A story they tell of a lunatic man, 

Who slid down-hill on a warming-pan , 

He steered himself with the handle, of course 

And checked away as he would to a horse. 



His legs, it is true, were somewhat in the way, 
And his seat rather tight, if a body might say; 
But he landed all right at the foot of the hill, 
And, for all that I know, he is sitting there still. 



You smile at the story, and wonder how folks 
Can get from their brains such a terrible hoax; 
But sliding down-hill is many a man 
On a much worse thing than a warming-p/in. 



66 Our Warfare. 

Some are going down at full speed on their pride, 
And others who on their stinginess slide; 
But the strangest way of taking that ride 
Is to go, as some do, on a beer-jug astride. 



Beware of such coasting, or, like Jack and Gill, 
You'll make sorry work in getting down-hill ; 
Beware ! for, with what other evil you tug, 
Tis nothing like sliding down-hill on a jug. 



JDUR Jf 



ARFARE, 



Still the fight goes on. The conflict is fearful. The 
rum army destroys ; the temperance army saves. We 
have a desperate enemy to resist. It has millions of capi- 
tal invested, hundreds of thousands of men enlisted ; 
greed and still baser passions impel them onward. There 
arc not less than 300,000 retail liquor-sellers, using every 
cunning artifice to secure customers, They are indefatig- 
able home missionaries of the rum power. They are 
priests in the church of sin. They hold protracted meet- 
ings week after week, year after year, without cessation. 
They have hosts of recruiting agents, who compel men to 
come in ; they push their work with ceaseless energy. 
Their power over their victims is wonderful. Once in 
their grasp, escape is the exception. Step by step they 
lead to certain ruin. And those who are most certain of 
ruin are always the least alarmed. They fear no evil, will 
not believe themselves in danger, and so go blindly to de- 
struction. Every victim becomes a decoy to others. The 
youth especially seem ambitious to be ensnared. Hence 
converts are easily made. 



Our Warfare. 67 

Do any expect to cure this evil speedily? It cannot 
be done. The war will be long and hard. The enemy 
has capital, greed, appetite, all the powers of depravity, 
on his side. He concentrates every element of sin in his 
support; he embodies the aggregate powers of Satan. 
We might as well face the fact and know the worst. Qui 
task is a hard one. Intemperance is a black cancer on 
the body of civilization. It will cost a terrible struggle 
to remove it. 

But it must be done. The hope of the Gospel, of 
everything good, depends upon it. If Christianity cannot 
eradicate this enemy, it will strangle Christianity. It is 
not papacy, nor infidelity, nor worldliness that we have 
most to tear. These are not the greatest enemies to re- 
ligion. Intemperance is the giant foe. It is the chief ob- 
stacle to the salvation of men. The great question now 
is, Who shall reign, Christ or rum ? 

If we are to resist sin at all, we must resist the liquor 
traffic. If we are sent to save the lost, we must rescue 
young men from tippling habits. The whole power of 
the churches, the influence of the Sabbath-schools, the 
testimony of the pulpits, must be emphatically against 
every form and degree of indulgence of this character. 
We must increase our opposition more and more ; we 
should make it a leading point, so that social, commer- 
cial, and political action will be controlled by it ; so that 
our preaching, praying, singing, talking, and voting will 
be full of it. The issue is radical, and requires energetic 
treatment. The victory of rum means return to barbar- 
ism ; its defeat means Christian civilization. We must 
do our duty valiantly, at whatever cost. 

Baptist Union. 



68 Mind the Door. 



M.IND THE DOOF^. 



From mind the door, these little words, 
So often fraught with meaning, 

We all may, whether young or old, 
Be useful lessons gleaning. 

Now, there are various kinds of doors, 
To suit the purpose needed : 

Both iron doors and wooden doors, 
And other kinds unheeded. 



More choice the prize, more strong the dooi\ 

For instance, see the bankers 
Trust to their doors with bolts and bars, 

As sailors do to anchors. 

We each have got two doors to mind, 

However we may do it ; 
And we must always seek the good, 

Flee evil and eschew it. 

There's first the door of our own heart, 

With every evil reeking; 
And next the door of our own lips, 

To keep from evil speaking. 

And mind not only what comes out, 

But also what goes in them ; 
And never put the demon's drink, 

At any time between them. 

For if you do, the danger's great 

Of falling into ruin ; 
And if you do in them indulge, 

Twill be your soul's undoing, 



A Model Temperance Speech. 69 

And if you take those cursed drinks — 

Ale, wine, rum, gin, or brandy — 
They bring home all the evil fruits 

That Satan keeps so handy. 

So we'll make strong- the outward door 

By totally abstaining ; 
And also keep the inner door 

By careful watch and training. 



A M.odel Temperance Speech, 

I propose to consider the temperance cause. 
How it has run, 
What it has done, 
Where it is known, 
What is its tone, 
Why it has flourished, 
How it is nourished. 

1. How has it run ? 

It has run steadily, 
It has run merrily. 

2. What has it done ? 

It has 'rested the mad, 
Reformed the bad, 
Refreshed the sad, 
Improved the glad. 
It has cooled many a lip, 
It has saved many a ship. 

3. Where is it known ? 

In every zone. 



jo The Decanter and the Dram-Shop. 

4. What is its tone? 

Its tone is inviting, 
Its tone is delighting. 

Look at the youthful Band of Hope. See how the 
children flock in crowds. See how happy they are. See 
what delight they give to their parents. See the happy 
families it makes. See the reformed drunkard's wife as 
her husband in his right mind comes home. See his 
happy children as they go to Sunday-school, and the 
happy change in himself. 

5. Why has it flourished ? 

Because it is nourished, 

6. How is it nourished ? 

By lectures and orations, 

By books and illustrations, 

By subscriptions and donations, 

By glorious expectations. 

Now, gentlemen, please bring forward the pledge, and 
pass round the plate. 



T 



he Decanter and the Pram-Shop. 



I would have every minister of Christ put temperance 
where God puts it — in his heart and in the daily activi- 
ties and perils of life. If into that door faithful preach- 
ing brings a soul to Christ, and at that rear door the 
bottle tempts another soul to ruin, what right has the 
pulpit to preach to that door, and turn its back upon the 
other? To-day the decanter and the dramshop are 
sending more souls to perdition than all our pulpits are 
saving with the blessing of God upon thQn efforts f 



" Stand to Your Guns.' 1 yi 

Think a moment of that. The decanter and the dram- 
shop are ruining more homes and more hearts, and 
destroying more souls, than all our pulpits and Sabbath- 
schools are saving. And yet wo meet many men who 
tell us that this is a question outside of the church, the 
ministry, the Sabbath-school, and the prayer-meeting. 
Let some of you tell me how often in your social prayer- 
meeting you hear prayer made for the drunkard, or for 
the salvation of our boys from the bottle and the drunk- 
ard's doom. People pray for China and the islands of the 
sea, for the overthrow of superstition and the casting 
down of heathenism, and this is all right; but silent is 
their lip towards God in reference to that insatiate 
demon that is bearing away one hundred thousand souls 
into a drunkard's grave every year. If you will tell me 
how often this great question is brought forward in 
social prayer-meetings, monthly concerts, Sabbath- 
schools, and churches, I will tell you how stands the 
temperance tide in that Christian community. We have 
got to dig deeper and go more thoroughly to the roots 
of things than by mere resolutions and conventions and 
the formation of parties on paper. Every one of us will 
have to take this question before God on our knees, as a 
lover of his country and of his kind, and ask him to give 
us courage, wisdom, tenderness, and power to do ouf 
part in the great question of the hour. 

Rev. T. L. Cuyler. 



ii Stand to Youf^ Guns," 

Hoist your flag ! tis the eve of a fight 
For the death of the demon of drink ; 

Draw your swords in the cause of the right \ 
Souls are loitering over the brink 



72 " Stand to Your Guns. 9 * 

Of a precipice, gloomy and dark, 
Whose base is the kingdom of hell ; 

So brace up your nerves for the fray, 
See to it you bear yourselves well. 

" Stand to your guns ! " 

Keep in line, for the foemen are strong ; 

In numbers they rival the stars. 
For the rescue of brothers from death, 

On to victory, and heed not your scars . ? 
For the sake of the wives of your hearts, 

For the sake of the sisters you love, 
For your babes, for your homes, ft>r your all, 

Stand you fast — from your ranks do not move. 
u Stand to your guns ! " 

Fire away! till the haunts of the fiend— 

Those poison-shops, gates to the grave — 
Shall be levelled to earth by your shot; 

Hurl them down, not a stone of them save ! 
For the blood of the slain stains their walls, 

The souls of the lost cry, " Repay ! " 
The maniac's laugh and the idiot's smile 

Command you to sweep them away. 
" Stand to your guns ! " 

Look to God ! for he only can help, 

And he loveth the banner you bear ; 
Do not fear, hold it bravely aloft, 

Seek the thick of the fight — be you there ! 
Live in hope, do not tremble or faint. 

If the battle be weary and long; 
Dash forward ! redouble your blows ! 

And, till victory tuneth your song, 

" Stand to your guns ! " 

Henry Anderton. 



Jack Simpson's Dream. 73 



Jack Simpson's Dream. 

Jack Simpson was a reckless chap, 

His best friends said he'd come to ruin ; 

But then, it mattered not a rap, 
He never cared what he was doing. 

One night, when drunk, he rambled on, 
Down street and lane, till near a river 

He stood, and thought himself to drown 
And thus his mad career to sever. 

The night was dark, no moon appeared, 

No sound was heard save wild winds playing-. 

Thoughts wiser came — the end he feared ; 
When, lo ! he heard a donkey braying, 

And yet it was a startling sound, 
It seemed with terror to assail him ; 

He thought himself on hallowed ground, 
Where spake the very ass of Balaam. 

Jack silent stood. The ass thus spake: 
"Leap, wretch, into this gliding river* 

Better thy grave with fishes make 
Than be an idle, drunken liver. 

u I am an ass, but thou a man 

With soul endued and powers increasing, 
Destined God's wondrous works to scan, 

And be to all thy race a blessing. 

" I am an ass of meanest worth, 

With instinct only like another ; 
Yet I fulfil my part on earth, 

And would not own thee as a brother* 



74 Give Me Back My Husband. 

"Thou art an idle, drunken pest, 
The centre of a thousand evils — 
A reckless sinner at the best, 

And only fit to dwell with devils." 

At this last word there seemed to rise 
The very flames of hell around him, 

And imps of hideous form and size, 

And devils, came with chains and bound him. 

Away like lightning then they Hew, 
And bore him to the place of demons, 
"Mercy!" he cried, "can this be true, 
Or do I feel delirium tremens?" 

The sun had risen in the east 

When he awoke to sense and feeling ; 
" Save, Lord !" he cried, and smote his breast, 
And angels saw a sinner kneeling. 

That dream he ne'er is wont to tell, 

So terrible and so appalling ; 
Each day he thinks of death and hell, 

And prays for grace to keep from falling. 

The very gates of hell he sees 

In every drinking-shop and tavern ; 

And from their portals now he flees 
As from a pestilential cavern. 



Give NLe Back JAy Husband, 

Not many years since, a young married couple from 
the far " fast-anchored isle " sought our shores with the 
most sanguine anticipations of happiness and prosperity. 
They had begun to realize more than they had seen in 



Give Me Back My Husband. 75 

the visions of hope, when, in an evil hour, the husband 
was tempted " to look upon the wine when it is red," and 
to taste of it " when itgiveth i s color in t lie cup." The 
charmer fastened round its victim all the serpent-spells 
ofits sorcery, and he fell ; and at every step of his degra- 
dation from the man to the brute, and downward, a heart- 
string broke iu the bosom of his companion. 

Finally, with the last spark of hope flickering on the 
altar of her heart, she threaded her way into one of those 
shambles where man is made such a thing as the beasts 
of the field would bellow at. She pressed her way 
through the bacchanalian crowd who were re veil i ng there 
in their own ruin. With her bosom full of " that perilous 
stuff that preys upon the heart," she stood before the 
plunderer of her husband's destiny, and exclaimed in 
tones of startling anguish, " Give me back my husband 7 " 

"There's your husband," said the man, as he pointed 
toward the prostrate wretch. 

" That my husband? What have you done to him ? 
That my husband? What have you done to that 
noble form that once, like the great oak, held its 
protecting shade over the fragile vine that clung to it 
for support and shelter ? That my husband? With what 
torpedo chill have you touched the sinews of that 
manly. arm? What have you done to that once noble 
brow, which he wore high among his fellows, as if it bore 
the superscription of the Godhead ? That my husband f 
What have you done to that eye, with which he was wont 
to look erect on heaven, and see in his mirror the image 
of his God ? What Egyptian drug have you poured into 
his veins, and turned the ambling fountains of the heart 
into black and burning pitch ? Give me back my hus- 
band ! Undo your basilisk spells, and give me back the 
man that stood with me by the altar! " 

The ears ot the rumseller, ever since the first demijohn 
of that burning liquid was opened upon our shores, have 
been saluted, at every stage of the traffic, with just such 



76 Only Sixteen. 

appeals as this. Such wives, such widows, and mothers, 
such fatherless children, as never mourned in Israel at 
the massacre of Bethlehem or at the burning of the tem- 
ple, have cried in his ears, morning, night, and evening, 
*' Give 7ne back my husband 1 Give me back my boy ! Give 
me back my brother I " 

But has the rumseller been confounded or speechless 
at these appeals ? No ! not he. He could show his 
credentials at a moment's notice with proud defiance. 
He always carried in his pocket a written absolution for 
all he had done and could do in his work of destruction. 
He had bought a letter of indulgence — I mean a license ! — a 
precious instrument, signed and sealed by an authority 
stronger and more respectable than the pope's. He con- 
founded ? Why, the whole artillery of civil power was 
ready to open in his defence and support. Thus shielded 
by the law, he had nothing to fear from the enemies of 
his traffic. He had the image and superscription of Cae- 
sar on his credentials, and unto Csesar he appealed ; and 
unto Csesar, too, his victims appealed, and appealed in vain. 



Only Sixteen. 



" When last seen, he was considerably intoxicated, . . . and was found 
dead in the highway." — Republican and Democrat of May 17. 

Only sixteen, so the papers say, 
Yet there on the cold, stony ground he lay; 
Tis the same sad story we hear every day — 
He came to his death in the public highway. 
Full of promise, talent, and pride, 
Yet the rum fiend conquered him ; so he died. 
Did not the angels weep over the scene? 
For he died a drunkard — and only sixteen, 
Only sixteen. 



Only Sixteen. jj 

Oh! it were sad he must die all alone; 
That of all his friends, not even one 
Was there to list to his last faint moan, 
Or point the suffering soul to the throne 
Of grace. If, perchance, God's only Son 
Would say, k< Whosoever wi 1 may come." 
But we hasten to draw a veil over the scene, 
With his God we leave him — only sixteen, 
Only sixteen. 



Rumseller, come view the work you have wrought; 
Witness the suffering and pain you have brought 
To the poor boy's friends. They loved him well, 
And yet you dared the vile beverage to sell 
That beclouded his brain, his reason dethroned, 
And left him to die out there all alone. 
What if 'twere your son instead of another ? 
What if your wife were that poor boy's mother, 
And he only sixteen? 



Ye free-holders who signed the petition to grant 
The license to sell, do you think you will want 
That record to meet in the last great day, 
When the earth and the heavens shall have passed away, 
When the elements, melting w r ith fervent heat, 
Shall proclaim the triumph of Right complete ? 
Will you wish to have his blood on your hands 
When before the great throne you each shall stand, 
And he only sixteen ? 

Christian men ! rouse ye to stand for the right, 
To action and duty ; into the light 
Come with your banners, inscribed " Death to rum." 
Let your conscience speak. Listen, then, come ; 



78 The Scolding Old Dame. 

Strike killing blows ; hew to the line ; 
Make it a felony even to sign 
A petition to license ; you would do it, I ween, 
If that were your son, and "only sixteen," 
Only sixteen. 

The Watchword. 



The Scolding Old Dame, 

There once was a toper — I'll not teli his name — 
Who had for his comfort a scolding old dame ; 
And often and often he wished himself dead, 
For, if drunk he came home, she would beat him to bed. 
He spent all his evenings away from his home, 
And, when he returned, he would sneakingly come 
And try to walk straightly, and say not a word — 
Just to keep his dear wife from abusing her lord ; 
For if he dared say his tongue was his own, 
'Twould set her tongue going, in no gentle tone, 
And she'd huff him, and cuff him, and call him hard 

names, 
And he'd sigh to be rid of all scolding old dames. 

It happened, one night, on a frolic he went, 
He stayed till his very last penny was spent; 
But how to go home, and get safely to bed, 
Was the thing oip his heart that most heavily weighed. 
But home he must go; so he caught up his hat, 
And off he went singing, by this and by that, 
" I'll pluck up my courage ; I guess she's in bed. 
If she an't, 'tis no matter, I'm sure. Who's afraid?" 
He came to his door ; he lingered until 
He peeped, and he listened, and all seemed quite still, 
In he went, and his wife, sure enough, was in bed! 
t *Oh !" says he, " it's just as I thought. Who's afraid? " 



Prohibition. 79 

lie crept about softly, and spoke not a word ; 

I lis wife seemed to sleep, for she never e'en stirred! 

Thought he, "For this night, then, my fortune is made ; 

For my clear, scolding wile is asleep! Who's afraid?" 

But soon he felt thirsty; and slyly he rose, 

Aim around, to the table he goes, 

The pitcher found empty, and so was the bowl. 

The pail, and the tumblers — she'd emptied the whole ! 

At length, in a corner, a vessel lie found! 

Says he, "Here's something to drink, I'll be bound!" 

And eagerly seizing, he lifted it up— 

And drank it all o(T in one long, hearty sup ! 

It tasted so queerly ; and what could it be ? 
He wondered. It neither was water nor tea ! 
Just then a thought struck him and rilled him with fear: 
" Oh ! it must be the poison for rats, I declare !" 
And loudly he called on his dear, sleeping wife, 
And begged her to rise; "for," said he, "on my life 
I fear it was poison the bowl did contain. 
Oh dear! yes, it was poison ; I now feel the pain !" 
"And what made you dry, sir?" the wife sharply cried. 
" Twould serve you just right if from poison you died ; 
And you've done a fine job, and you'd now better march, 
For just see, you brute, you have dnmk all my starch!'' 



f 



ROHIBITION, 



What is meant by prohibition? We do not intend by 
prohibition to enact a bill of fare for the people. We do 
not propose any sumptuary measures for the regulation 
of mankind. We do not design to give directions by le- 
gislative enactments to physicians in relation to the diete- 
tic treatment of their patients. We simply ask for a law 



80 Prohibition. 

which shall be lifted as a shield to save our fellow-men 
from the terrible blow which is aimed at them by the 
liquor traffic. We ask the men who make our laws to 
protect us from the evils which accompany the rum trade. 
The rum trade makes men mad, and under the influence 
of rum men will assault their neighbors, starve and beat 
their wives and children, commit theft, arson, and mur- 
der. We ask men of every shade of politics, of every 
creed in religion, to join with us in our earnest efforts to 
stop the liquor traffic and seal up the dram-shops. Is it 
unreasonable and arbitrary to demand a law which shall 
squelch the cause of the effect we all deplore. Here is a 
man who contributes nothing toward his own support; 
he is a tax and a nuisance, vibrating between the grog- 
shop and the station-house. Sober men have to foot his 
bills, support his family, suffer the infliction of his bad 
habits, and run the risk of his torch and his knife. Now 
is this a fair and square condition of things ? Shall the 
innocent be burdened with the sins of the guilty? That 
man would take care of himself and of those who depend 
upon him, if the liquor-shops were closed. He would 
contribute his share of tax toward the support of the in- 
stitutions of government, and he would cease to be a 
scarecrow in society. Now rum lights his torch ; rum 
nerves his arm to strike the innocent ; rum fires the tem- 
per which makes his mouth break out in eruptions of 
wicked speech ; rum sharpens the blade of assassination. 
We ask for a law of prohibition which shall say, without 
circumlocution, ''No man shall poison another man ; no 
man shall sell to another that which will deprive his 
mind of reason and his heart of feeling." We demand 
prohibition because it is in accordance with the laws of 
self-preservation— the first law of nature ; because it is 
practical, and has worked wonders of reform where it 
has been carried into execution ; because the tax-payers 
and all the decent members of society, and the wives and 
ehildren of all, are entitled to its protection ; because even 



The Modern Goliath — Alcohol. 8f 

the dram-sellers and their drunken victims will be bene- 
fited by it; and because it is in unison with the high and 
holy enactments of God in the Ten Commandments. 
There we find no half-way law, no license for the com- 
mitting of sin. u Thou shalt not steal," is the language 
of the Scriptures. He who receives money without re- 
turning an equivalent steals. The rumseller does not 
give an equivalent for the money he receives ; hence he 
steals. We ask our human legislators to echo the divine 
legislation, and say to the dealers in rum, "Thou shalt 
not steal." Thou shalt not make thy neighbor steal. 
"Thou shalt not kill " by selling that which does kill a 
hundred thousand victims a year. Prohibition is the 
translation of the sixth commandment into human law, 
"Thou shalt not kill " — not even for five hundred, or five 
thousand dollars a year. "Thou shalt not kill " with ar- 
senic, nor with alcohol, by degrees nor suddenly, in the 
city nor in the country. This is prohibition. We want 
to prohibit vice and crime, theft and murder, and all the 

evils which flow from intemperance. 

R. C. Pitman. 



The Modern Goliath — -Alcohol. 

M And David said, What have I now done ? Is there not a cause ?"— i. Sam, 
xvii. 29. 

Full forty days Philistia's host defiant 

By Elah's vale filled Israel with dismay, 
As, overawed by Gath's ungainly giant, 

Saul and the Hebrew bands all trembling lay. 
A shepherd "stripling" heard the challenge flaunted, 

And straight with holy indignation stung, 
At grim Goliath's haughty mien undaunted, 

Back on the scornful foe defiance flung ; 



82 Drinking docs not Pay ! 

And meekly, ere to that dread strife he draws, 

His brother's taunt he answers : " Is there not a cause?" 

A giant demon now abroad is walking, 

Who frowns defiance on the Christian host; 

And whilst before their ranks that foe is stalking, 
Alas! of dire destruction he can boast. 

Say, ye who serve your Lord and love his laws, 

For deeds of faith and venture "Is there not a cause?" 

What if fur comrades' fall your eyes be tearful? 

The weak against the strong can still prevail. 
If other hearts of this assault be fearful, 

No warrior of Christ should ever quail. 
Not seeking human aid or man's applause 
To arm him for the fray : he knows there is a cause. 

Great Captain, thou thine own hast not forsaken, 
But with our host still goest forth to fight ; 

Our languid faith revive, our soul awaken, 
Thou Lord of power and Giver of all might; 

While from the field each craven heart withdraws, 

That we, like men should quit us : " Is there not a cause ? " 



Drinking does not f*AY ! 

Go with me to every jail and prison throughout our 
land, from ocean to ocean, and ascertain how large a 
portion of those crimes and misdemeanors that have 
taken men from their families and lodged them there in 
prison walls has resulted from intoxication ; and the 
answer from every jail and prison comes to us to-night 
that " drinking does not pay." Visit the poor-houses, 
which the charities of mankind provide for those who 



Drinking does not Pay ! 83 

from competency have been reduced to destitution, and 
learn there the sad lesson, how many of them have ceas- 
ed to become useful and valuable members of society, 
and dependent upon the taxes by which we support the 
poor, in consequence of yielding to the intoxicating 
bowl ; and every poor-house answers, " Drinking does 
not pav." Examine the statistics of the gallows, and 
learn how many of its victims were induced to take the 
downward road thither by that intoxicating cup which 
turned their brains and nerved their arm for the blow 
which sent them to the gallows ; and the gallows tells 
you that "drinking does not pay." Read histor) r , and 
learn from it how man)?- of the great and the gifted in 
other lands as well as our own have commenced at wine- 
drinking and ended in ruin, mental and physical ; and 
history tells you that " drinking does not pay." Nay, 
more, read the papers of the day, and from every quarter 
you hear, morning after morning, and evening after eve- 
ning, of the thousands who, once having pledged at the 
altar a lifetime of devotion and affection to their brides, 
reel home from a drunken debauch, to treat with brutal- 
ity and violence those who should be as dear to them as 
their heart's blood ; and this army of worse than widow- 
ed wives, whose woes no one but themselves can realize, 
tells you most sadly and impressively that "drinking 
does not pay." 

It has been well said, " It is the first step that costs." 
Young men, stepping out upon the threshold of life, with 
everything bright and hopeful in your future, let me ad- 
jure you. above all things else next to devotion to that 
religion which is to smooth your pathway to the tomb, 
avoid taking that first step. Plant your feet upon that 
solid rock of sobriety, as well as of safety, and then you 
may know that, so far as intemperance is concerned, its 
waves can dash against you, but they will dash in vain. 

Hon. Schuyler Colfax. 



84 Opening Speech. 



Opening JSpeech, 

Should you ask me whence these children, 
Whence the young men and these maidens ? 
I should answer, I should tell you, 
From the hills and valleys round us, 
From the homes that proudly own them. 
Should you ask me why the children, 
Why the young men and these maidens, 
Have thus gathered here together ? 
I should answer, 1 should tell you, 
They have come to pledge their friendship 
To the fountains and the streamlets, 
To the clear, refreshing waters ; 
They would thrust for ever from them 
All the liquors that are evil- 
Sparkling wine, that old deceiver, 
Deadly as the stinging adder, 
With all hard and stupid cider, 
And the strong and fiery brandy ; 
Punch and whiskey are included, 
And the mug of sweetened toddy ; 
And they come to give the promise 
That they will not ever utter 
Oaths against their heavenly Father. 
This is why have come the children 
Singing songs of cheer and gladness ; 
Speaking words of joy and sadness ; 
That they may not join with drunkards, 
Nor with swearers, nor with smokers, 
But in all good ways may follow 
Footsteps of the blessed Saviour, 
And so please their heavenly Father. 



Found Dead Drunk. 85 



Found Dead Drunk. 

a PARODY. 

One more inebriate 

Into the gutter. 
"Thick-headed muddlepate," 

Hear the crowd mutter. 
Take him up roughly, 

Blue-coated star, 
Shake him, and pitch gruffly 

Into the car. 



Look at his hat so battered. 
His face quite bespattered, 
While the mud constantly 

Drips from his clothing. 
Off with him instantly, 

Spurn him with loathing. 



Touch him not mournfully, 
Think of him scornfully, 

Treat him not humanly. 
Beware the stains of him ! 
Into the lock-up with him. 

Let him sleep fumily. 



Look at the blotches 

That bloom on his nose — 
Glowing red blotches, 
Scars, seams, and notches, 
As red as the rose. 



86 Found Dead Drunk. 

Who is his father? 

Where is his mother? 
Has he a brother ? 

Or is there another 
To keep this sot out of jail, 
Will at once sign for his bail, 

And away with this bother? 

Alas ! for the rarity 
Of Christian charity 

Under the sun ! 
Oh ! it is pitiful ! 
In a whole cityful, 

Friend he has none. 

Where the lamps quiver, 
So far on the river, 

With bright, sparkling light 
From window and casement, 
From garret to basement, 
We stand with amazement, 

And gaze at the sight. 

That we now behold 

Makes us tremble and shiver. 
Not with piercing cold 

Do we tremble and shiver- 
Here, the life history, 
This, the paupers' mystery, 

Is thus unfurled. 
Yes, here ! Ah ! here : 

Cursed of the world. 

In this gambling hell, 
Rum poison they sell 



Temperance and Religion. 87 

To this miserable man. 
Tis death to drink it; 
Pause o'er it, think of it, 

Anti-temperance man. 
Vote for it, drink of it 

Then, if you can. 

Snatch it away quickly, 

Linger not there. 
Young man, ever so strictly 

Of wine-cups beware ! 

Phil. O. Sopher. 



Temperance and Religion. 

Temperance is not religion, but it is one of the virtues 
of religion. A man may be a temperance man without 
being a religious man; but he cannot be a pious or re- 
ligious man so long as he remains an intemperate man. 
Temperance is an aid of religion ; the ally of Christianity, 
preparing the mind and heart to receive the truth of re- 
ligion. It casts the devil of drunkenness out of the man ; 
sweeps the temple of the soul with the pledge of ab- 
stinence, and fits it to receive the holy influence of true 
piety. There is no antagonism between temperance and 
religion, for the former prepares the way for the latter. 
Temperance societies are the nurseries of the church : 
temperance tracts are the leaves which are intended for 
the healing of the nations ; temperance lectures are the 
voice of John the Baptist in the wilderness. Drunken- 
ness is a physical disease, breaking out in blotches upon 
the face, and sapping and mining the foundations of 
health and life. The pledge is a panacea which never 
fails to cure the disease when it is taken in time and 



88 Lulus Speech. 

kept inviolate. Drunkenness is also a moral malady, 
and religion is the remedy which is sure to cure it when 
it is taken from the hand which offers it. Those men 
who trust to temperance for salvation are like the car- 
penters of Noah, who built a ship for other folks to sail 
in, and yet were drowned themselves at last. 



Lulu 1 



s Speech. 



1 AM a little temperance girl 

Just five years old ; 
I wouldn't drink a glass of wine 

If you'd fill the cup with gold. 
I have a little brother, 

We belong to the Band of Hope ; 
I 'spect there'll be no drunken men 

When he and I grow up. 
For, don't you see, the little ones 

Are all going to join the Band, 
And we'll soon be great big temperance folks. 

Oh ! won't that be so grand 
When there's not a drunkard to be seen? 

For, don't you think its queer, 
The first thing drunkards learn to drink 

Is the cider, wine, and beer ! 
And so we belong to the Band of Hope. 

And we mean to be good and true ; 
And all the little boys and girls 

We shall ask to join us, too. 

Mrs. E. J. Richmond. 



Tkc Drunken Moincr. 89 



The Drunken Mlothef^. 
a true story. 

The waning moon hung out her feeble light ; 

Dim stars shone here and there one winter night. 

Amongst abodes of indigence and care, 

Down a dark court, a wretched home stood there. 

The house three stories high — the bottom floor 

Saw squalid poverty unseen before ; 

No pestilence or famine cursed the land, 

But o'er that house intemp'rance waved its wand. 

The dying embers long had ceased to blaze 
On hearth once bright with light of better days ; 
Intoxication with its fearful blast, 
Like a destroying angel, had been past. 

There lonely children sat with weary eyes, 
Twas near the Sabbath morning's peaceful rise ; 
The absent mother, so required within, 
Was at the tavern drinking ale or gin. 

They talked of her, told of their wants and woes — 
How pledged their shoes, and from their backs the 

clothes ; 
How all the thoughts that ever she could think 
Were sacrificed unto her idol — Drink. 

The spirit-bottle on the secret shelf 

Ruined her home, her children, and herself; 

Affection, pity, anger — all in vain ; 

Oft she repented, and then drank again. 



90 Look not on the Wine when it is Red. 

And strongly urged by kindness to abstain, 

She said she would, and never drink again ; 

She signed the pledge, but soon that vow was broke, 

And then the demon Drink confirmed his yoke. 

The circling ball rolls on when once begun — 
Thus good and evil must their courses run. 
One night, with indistinctive thoughts of bed, 
She reeled home dizzy, stumbled, and was dead. 

The extra glass to bid a friend good-by 
Was the first cloud that darkened all their sky, 
And those whom once she fondly called her own 
Through insatiate thirst on Providence were thrown. 

The fairest flower of Eden still bears seed — 
Man's joy in sorrow and his help in need; 
But she made life and prospect here below 
"A mourning, lamentation, and a woe." 

This moral learn : to grow to hardened sin, 
We only need by littles to begin ; 
And then, when hope of reformation's past, 
A long-forbearing judgment comes at last, 

Charles Cross. 



Look not on the Wine when it is Red. 

Beware ! oh ! beware ! 

Young stranger, take care, 
When it sparkles before thee so brilliant and fair ; 

Afc]d away turn thine eye 

To yon pure azure sky, 
And think of his word who is Sovereign there. 



Cold Water Greeting. 91 

Though at first it delight thee, 

Like a serpent 'twill bite thee, 
And sting like an adder ! Beware ! oil ! beware ! 

If the wine cup be bright. 

Tis a treacherous light, 
And will lead thee to ruin. Oh ! ilee from the snare ! 



Cold Watep x Preeting, 

I am glad to be here to night. Here we are assembled 
in the name of God, who lias taken care o[ us all our 
lives long, who has sent his Son to redeem us, and who 
has sent his Holy Spirit to cleanse us. We began this 
meeting with a prayer, and we will close it with a bene- 
diction. Let heaven rejoice, and hell tremble ; let all the 
grog-shops from Nova Scotia to California hallo ; we will 
set up our banners. I cannot understand why all the 
poets and romancers, when they begin to talk about a 
good time, always gather it around a wine-bottle or ale- 
cask, as if people could not have a good time unless they 
became half drunk. I don't believe there is a man here 
who has taken anything stronger than Hyson tea or Old 
Dominion coffee ; and have you ever seen a merrier 
group ? Cold water is good for the constitution. It puts 
no gout into the toes ; it puts no dimness int~> the eyes ; 
it puts no trembling into the limbs. It never sets a man 
at midnight interviewing a lamp-post. It never turns 
respectable men into gutter inspectors. It never turns 
domestic arrangements upside dewn until the father is as 
bad off as the man who said that none of his children 
took after him, except his eldest daughter, and she took 
after him with a broomstick. I read in some paper a 
very learned disquisition showing that alcohol is just the 
thing for the constitution, especially for those with the 



92 Cold Water Greeting. 

medulla oblongata, or something like that, which I suppose 
to be something similar to the disease with which Mrs. 
Brent was afflicted. Her husband was a very illiterate 
man ; he thought he would not have a doctor, and that 
he would read up and treat the case himself. He after- 
ward told a friend that he believed his wife was threaten- 
ed with a very bad attack of " diagnosis," and that, if she 
got that, she would be a "goner." And true enough, in 
a very few weeks, it was inscribed on her tombstone : 

''Here lies Mrs. Brent; 
She kicked up her heels, and away she went." 

I think that cold water is not only good for the 
body, but it keeps us, as we are all found to-night, 
in good heart and at peace with all the world ; and, tak- 
ing the words of the only out-and-out temperance man 
who ever lived in the White House, " We have malice 
toward none, and charity for all." 

For those poor fellows who are the victims of strong 
drink we have compassion, we have prayer, we have 
Christian sympathy, Ave have all help. For those who 
sell rum w& have deep pity that they should bring upon 
themselves the scorn of good society ; that they should 
bring upon themselves the retributions of eternity. 

When a man comes with a soul and body all on fire 
with evil habits, and looks up into the face of the Lord 
God, and says, " Help, help," I tell you that all the re- 
sources of omnipotence and eternity are pledged to that 
man's deliverance, and he will get it. Let us, as we start 
a new year form the resolution to do more work in the 
temperance cause. You who have pens, write ; you who 
have tongues, speak ; you who have helping hands, help. 
And God grant that there may be hundreds and hun- 
dreds of prodigals, with their scarred and palsied tongues 
looking heavenward, by our prayers and by our efforts 
brought out from their bondage. 



The Drunkard. 93 

The* s a labor to be wrought, 

There's a race that we must run, 
There's a battle to be fought, 

And a victory to be won. 
For a cheated nation's sake! 

Ho, ye people! plundered all 

By the slaves of alcohol. 
Rouse, the demon's arm to break ; 
Wide awake, boys ! wide awake. M 

Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage. 



The Drunkard 



Give me drink, the diunkard said, 
I will not take the temperance vow 
Too long this dark'ning life I've led 
For you to try to save me now ; 
And I could not, with my mad brain, 
Share of the joys of life again. 
Too many evils clasp my heart 
For me to rend the bonds apart ; 
For me to try to see the dawn, 
That breaks beyond the gloomy river, 
When the soul from earth has gone 
Back unto the Eternal Giver, 
Disgraced and lost for evermore. 
I shall not walk the sun-bright plain ; 
And it is useless to deplore 
That which I cannot have again. 
There was a time when I could claim, 
Away back in the by-gone years, 
A happy heart and honored name; 
I then had no for boding fears, 



94 The Drunkard. 

And all the world was fall of light, 

And life to me was dear and bright. 

But in the tempting glass I found 

The demon that my soul has bound — 

The demon that has led me on 

From crime to crime, through sin and gloom. 

Till every joy I loved is gone, 

And I must meet a fearful doom, 

And nevermore can hope to hear 

Fond words from love lips kindly spoken ; 

But must await in doubt and fear, 

Until the last frail link is broken. 

Yon pompous man now riding by, 

With trotting bays and carriage tine, 

Who never gives one pitying sigh, 

First gave to me the tempting w r ine. 

My earnings helped to place him there, 

But now I cannot ride with him — 

I'm lower than his classes are, 

And my eyes are red and dim. 

Will he be punished less than I 

In the great eternity ? 

He took my hard-earned gold away, 

And made me what I am to day. 

Poor Mary wept and prayed for me, 

And, brokenhearted, died at last; 

Her grave is down beside the sea, 

And I can only mourn the past ; 

Can only in my grief await 

The coming of a darker fate. 

God knows I did not wish to be 

The wretched being I am now; 

The serpent clinging fast to me, 

And shame and sin stamped on my brow, 

And in my heart a pall of gloom 

That dark and fatal makes my doom. 

Oliver Perry Man love. 



Facts Worth Knowing* 95 



f ACTS YfORTH |{NOWING, 

There is no greater evil in all Christendom than in- 
temperance. There are no sterner reasons for any reform 

in the world than for the temperance reform. There is 
no evil producing- such dreadful results ; there is no 
cause that can be espoused in behalf of which so much 
can be said in its favor, so much in the way of fact and 
statistic and argument appealing to the mind. You have 
heard say that one hundred thousand lives are lost 
by intemperance. That may be a high estimate ; they 
used to talk about, sixty thousand as being the number 
of deaths occasioned by liquor. Sixty thousand annually 
destroyed! Have you any idea of what that means? 
Suppose that an earthquake should have swallowed up 
four cities like Auburn in this State ; that would have 
made sixty thousand. Suppose another earthquake 
should swallow up another city in Pennsylvania, then 
another in some other State, and so it should go on year 
after year; how long would we be living in this land? 
Would we not leave it as we would fly fiom the pesti- 
lence ? And yet sixty thousand lives are destroyed 
every year by alcoholic drinks. You have heard of the 
terrible accident that occurred on the Hudson River 
Railroad, when the express-train ran into an oil-train, 
and twenty lives were lost. As the morning paper was 
taken up, horror ran through the community; every- 
body fe t thrilled with excitement in view of the awful 
havoc in connection with that railroad accident. Sup* 
pose that the next month a similar telegraphic dispatch 
was sent that another accident had happened on the 
same road, and next month another, throughout the 
year; that would have amounted to about two hundred 
and fifty lives !ost on the Hudson River Railroad for a 



96 The Little Armies. 

year. By the end of the year, there is not a man or 
woman in this city, who, if they heard of a friend of 
theirs talking about going to Albany on the Hudson 
River Railroad, but would go to that person, and en- 
deavor, by all the influences they could command, to 
persuade that individual to keep off that road. Suppose 
these accidents occurred every week instead of monthly, 
or every day instead of every week, then you would have 
only seven thousand lives lost annually on that road, if 
tidings had come to you every morning of an accident 
of a similar nature. And then what would have been 
done? Why, that railroad would have been torn up 
from its base, the iron would have been pitched into the 
river, the ties would have been destroyed, and the cars 
burned to pieces, and this community would have said, 
" No more cars on that road." Suppose from eight 
other roads the same tidings had come, there would not 
be a railroad in the country, for no man would venture 
upon a car. If there were eight such accidents from 
eight different roads every day in the year, there would 
not be so many lives lost as are destroyed by intempe- 
rance. Now., these are facts ; and facts like these need 
to be brought before the community, in order to inform 
the mind, touch the conscience, and arouse the heart. 

Rev. Herrick Johnson. 



The Little ^rmies, 

There are two little armies 

On the world's great battle-field, 

Though unnoted oft by mortails, 
To the eyes of God revealed. 



The Little Armies. 97 

Though we hear no shouts of triumph, 

Though we see no fearful fray, 
Those little armies battle 

For the Right or Wrong each day; 

The Right or Wrong each day. 

They must fight ; no ground is neutral ; 

And I watch the sides they take; 
One little army chooses 

To fight for Truth's dear sake ; 
The banner floating o'er it 

Rises grandly up to view; 
And I read this glorious motto : 

'•' Fighting for the Good and True ; 

For Temperance and God." 

How brave that little army ! 

What a halo o'er it shines ! 
And even angels welcome 

Every soldier to its lines; 
How sweet the stirring music 

Of the tramp of little feet 
That in God's holy highway 

Swiftly onward, upward beat: 

Onward and upward beat. 

Alas ! the other army, 

'Neath a gloomy flag unfurled, 
Marches with the ranks of evil; 

Treads the dark ways of the world ; 
Not for the true and beautiful 

Does it grow brave and strong ; 
For, lo ! upon its banner 

I read, "Fighting for the Wrong; 

Old surly-hearted Wrong." 

Mary Fletcher Beavers. 



98 An Acrostic. — The Temperance Enterprise. 



An Acrostic on the Word Distillery. 

DlUNK naught that's made within my walls, list to my 

warning voice : 
I deal in strongest poisons here, just watered to men's 

choice. 
Save all your money, laboring men, and then you'll 

wisely see 
Twere better far to burn it all than take strong drink 

from me. 
I and my masters are the cause of every drunkard's 

woe ; 
Leave off this dangerous trifling, then, which hurts 

your body so. 
L 00k all around, and see the ills which spots like me 

have wrought ; 
Everywhere see my handiwork— give that your deepest 

thought. 
Resolve without delay, and then, if from my path you 

look, 
Y ou'll live to bless the very day that my advice you 

took. 



The Temperance Enterprise. 

" An enterprise that has fed the hungry, and clothed 
the naked, and healed the sick, and taught the ignorant, 
and elevated the degraded, and gladdened the sorrowful, 
and led to the cross multitudes that had been wandering 
far away ; an enterprise that has gathered again the for- 
tune that had been scattered, and built again the home 
that had been ruined, and raised again the character that 
had been blasted, and bound up the heart that had been 
broken ; an enterprise that has given peace where there 



Vote Yes, or No. 99 

was discord, and gladness where there had been woe, 
that has broken open many a prison door, and restored 
to his right mind many a maniac; an enterprise that has 
prevented many a suicide, and that has robbed the gal- 
lows of many a victim that would otherwise have been 
there ; an enterprise that has thinned the work-house, 
and the hospital, and the jail, but that has helped to 
fill the school, and the lecture-room, and the industrial 
exhibition ; an enterprise that has turned into useful 
citizens those that were the pests of society, one of the 
best educators of the masses, one of the chief pioneers 
of the Gospel ; an enterprise which is not Christ, but 
which is as one of the holy angels that go upon his 
mission. Like some fair spirit from another world, our 
great enterprise has trodden the wilderness, and flowers 
of beauty have sprung up upon her track. She has 
looked around, gladdening all on whom her smiles have 
fallen ; she has touched the captive, and his fetters have 
fallen off; she has spoken, and the countenance of de- 
spair has been lighted up with hope ; she has waved her 
magic wand, and the wilderness has rejoiced and blos- 
somed as the rose. Like the fabled Orpheus, she has 
warbled her song of mercy, and wild beasts, losing their 
ferocity, have followed gladly and gratefully in her train. 
She has raised up those that have been worse than dead, 
sepulchred in sin, and she has led multitudes to the 
living waters of salvation." 

Newman Hall. 



Vote Yes, of\ No. 



Vote yes, and the vile demon drink 
Shall raise its awful head on high, 

That man, the noble work of God, 
May helpless in the gutter lie ; 



ioo Vote Yes, or No. 

The drunkard's wife may starve and weep, 
And the poor children, all forlorn, 

In their degraded sphere become 

Victims of drink and vice and scorn. 

Vote no, and love and peace will dwell 

In the poor saved inebriate's home; 
His wife will thank the God above 

Her husband never cares to roam ; 
The children, in their joyful glee, 

Have learnt to meet him with delight ; 
No more he drinks the drunkard's drink, 

Because you voted for the right. 

Vote yes, and many an only son 

Will cause his mother's heart to ache, 
For she with bitter sorrow finds 

His promises are made to break ; 
His craving appetite demands, 

And drink, he feels, must be supplied ; 
And so from paths of rectitude 

Helpless he wanders far and wide. 

Vote no, and mothers good and true 

Will shower blessings on your head, 
For many a son will, be restored 

Whom drink a helpless victim led ; 
drunkards will learn to walk erect, 
And many a home be filled with joy, 
..nd many a son will be reformed, 
And many a mother bless her boy. 

Vote yes, and paupers multiply, 
And crime of every sort will reign, 

And man degraded will become 
A needless sufferer of pain ; 



Song of t lie Water. ioi 

Transformed, he will no longer seek 

To raise and help his fellow-man, 
But to the deepest, darkest depths 

With bitter hate drag all he can. 

Vote no, and He who made the world 

Will bless and crown the righteous deed; 
Your prayers and votes with one accord 

Ask that the drunkard may be freed ; 
And God, the high, the just, and great, 

The double action will approve, 
Because its promptings are sincere, 

The pure outgrowth of fervent love. 

Thomas R. Thompson 



Song of the Watei\. 

You may find me in the mountain, 

In the little gurgling rills ; 
I am gushing from the fountain, 

And coursing down the hills. 
I am rolling in the billows, 

And on the breakers ride , 
My home is with the mariner 

Out on the ocean wide. 

You may find me in the dew-drop 

That is glistening on the flowers; 
I come to drooping nature 

In cool, refreshing showers. 
I am glancing in the sunbeams 

From my cloud-spangled house o* high, 
And I come in dewy sadness, 

With tears that never drv. 



102 A Drunken Soliloquy in a Coal-Cellar. 

You may find me in the river, 

Rushing on with ceaseless roar, 
Until it meets its comrade 

By some far-off distant shore. 
I am found in misty ether, 

Hanging, quivering o'er the earth, 
And gathered up like pearl-drops, 

Ere the clouds have given me birth. 

And I come in fleecy whiteness, 

Drifting, drifting lightly down, 
Covering hill and vale and meadow 

With a pure and spotless gown — 
An emblem of the beauty 

And the purity above, 
Where the angels shine in glory 

In yonder world of love. 

I bring health, and joy, and gladness 

Where'er I am used aright ; 
I sometimes chase the shadows, 

And make all faces bright. 
Then fill each costly goblet, 

As you gather round the board, 
With pure and sparkling water 

Brought from nature's choicest hoard. 



A Drunken S0LIL09UY in a Coal-Pellaf\. 

Let's see, where am I? This is coal I'm lying on. 
How 'd I get here ? Yes, I mind now ; was coming up 
street ; met a wheel-barrow what was drunk, coming 
t'other way. That wheel-barrow fell over me, or I fell 
over the wheel-barrow, and one of us fell into the cellar ; 



A Drunken Soliloquy in a Coal-Cellar. 103 

don't mind now which , guess it must have been me. 
I'm a nice young' man ) yes, I am — tight, tore, drunk, 
shot ! Well, 1 can't help it, 'tan't my fault. Wonder 
whose fault it is? Is it Jones's fault? No! Is it my 
wife's fault? No-0-0 ! It's whiskey's fault ! W^hiskky ! 
Who's whiskey? Has he got a large family? Got many 
relations? All poor, I reckon. I won't own him any 
more ; cut his acquaintance I have had a notion of 
doing that for the last ten years ; always hated to, 
though, for fear of hurting his feelin's. I'll do it now, 
for I believe liquor is injurin' me ; it's spoilin' my tem- 
per. Sometimes I gets mad, and abuses Bets. When I 
come home, she used to put her arms around my neck 
and kiss me, and call me " dear William ! " When I come 
home now, she takes her pipe out of her mouth, puts the 
hair out of her eyes, and looks at me and says, " Bill, 
you drunken brute, shut the door after you ! We're cold 
enough, havin' no fire, 'thout lettin' the snow blow in 
that way." Yes, she's Bets, and I'm Bill now; I an't a 
good bill, nother ; I'm counterfeit; won't pass ^a tavern 
without goin' in and gettin' a drink). Don't know what 
bank I'm on ; last Sunday was on the river-bank, at the 
Corn Exchange, drunk ! I stay out pretty late — some- 
times out all night, when Bets bars the door with a bed- 
post. Fact is, I'm out pretty much all over— out of 
friends, out of pocket, out at elbows and knees, and out- 
rageously dirty. So Bets says ; but she's no judge, for 
she's never clean herself. I wonder she don't wear good 
clothes. May be she an't got any ! Whose fault is that? 
'Tan't mine ! It may be whiskey's. Sometimes I'm in ; 
I'm in-toxicated now, and in somebody's coal cellar. 
I've got one good principle: I never runs in debt — 'cause 
nobody won't trust me. One of my coat-tails is gone; 
got tore off, I expect, when I fell down here. I'll have to 
get a new suit soon. A fellow told me t'other day that 
I'd make a good sign for a paper-mill. If he hadn't been 
so big, I'd licked him. I an't very stout, neither, though 



104 A Child's Vow. 

I'm full in the face. As the boys say, " I'm fat as a match 
and healthy as the small-pox." It's getting cold down 
here; wonder how I'll get out? I an't able to climb; 
if I had a drink, I think I could do it. Let's see, I an't 
got three cents. Wish I was in a tavern , I could sponge 
it then. When anybody treats, and says, "Come, fel- 
lers ! " I always thinks my name is fellers, and I've too 
good manners to refuse. I must leave this place, or I'll 
be arrested for burglary, and I an't come to that yet. 
Anyway, it was the wheelbarrow did the harm, and not 
me ! A. Burnett. 



>p 



Child's Vow. 

Cider I will not sip, 

It shall not pass my lip, 
Because it has made drunkards by the score. 

The apples I will eat, 

But cider, hard or sweety 
I will not touch, or taste, or handle more. 

The ruddy-red wine-cup 

I never will lift up, 
A snake is coiled beneath the gleaming wine— 

A deadly, poison thing, 

And he will bite and sting; 
I see his fierce eyes through the bubbles shine. 

I will not taste of gin, 

It leads to vice and sin ; 
And so do brandy, ale, and rum, and beer. 

But God has made a drink 

Better than all, I think- 
Cold water ; that we never need to fear. 



Be Brave, My Brother. 105 

It docs not steal our brains, 

It docs not give us pains, 
It quenches thirst, and does not leave a sting. 

That is the drink for me — 

Cold water, pure and free, 
That gushes from the pearly mountain-spring. 

Ella Wheeler. 



Be Brave. Mly Brother! 

Be brave, my brother ! 

And let the wine-cup pass ; 
Gird up thy strength, for much it needs 

To shun the social glass. 
It may be a beauty's hand 

That proffereth it to thee ; 
Put on thine armor to withstand 

Such twofold witchery. 
'Tis not alone the battle-field 

That needs a hero true. 
There's many a strife in calmer life 
That needs a hero too. 
Then be brave, my brother, 

And let the wine-cup pass ; 
Gird up thy strength, for much it needs 
To shun the social glass. 

Be strong, my brother, 

Refuse the glowing cup, 
Although it needs thy utmost strength 

Sometimes to give it up. 
Where genial spirits meet, 

And friends around thee press, 
Put on thine armor to defend 

Thy path in gentleness. 



io6 Objections against Abstinence. 

For many a joyous feast 
And hospitable board 
May prove as rife with battle strife 
As battle-fields afford. 

But be strong, my brother, 

Refuse the glowing cup, 
Although it takes thy utmost strength 
Sometimes to give it up. 

Be firm, my brother, 

And joys will soon be thine ; 
The joys of peace and happiness 

Surpass the joys of wine. 
To help destroy the serpent's sting. 

Make bare the lion's den, 
Removing much that's dangerous 
From 'mongst thy fellow-men; 
'Tis surely worth the striving for, 

And worth thy ablest powers, 
To clear the way for better days 
In this fair world of ours. 
Then be firm, my brother, 

And joys will soon be thine — 
The joys of peace and happiness, 
Surpassing joys of wine. 



Objections ^gainst Abstinence. 

Hardly any sensible person now defends drinking 
upon the old plan ; but when any one speaks about total 
abstinence or temperance, the usual mode is to " trot 
out " some objection against it, and then to endeavor to 
ride off upon that objection. It is common, for example, 
to say, "Why, wine is a creature of God, and what could 



Objections against Abstinence. 107 

it have been for but drinking? and if it be a creature of 
God, therefore it is plain that men must be held to be 
warranted in using it." It is sufficient to say that there 
are many creatures of God to the use of which it is 
proper to set a limit. Arsenic, for example, is very use- 
ful in the arts and sciences, very useful in medicine, and 
is used by young girls, it is alleged, in Styria in beautify- 
ing the skin ; but every one knows perfectly well that 
there are certain limits set, not merely by the common 
sense of the individual, but by the law, to the use of ar- 
senic. It regulates its sale, and, in many countries, the 
form and the quantity in which it shall be sold are pre- 
scribed. And if it be right and proper to set these limits, 
and on the part of men to submit to them, it is conceiva- 
ble that it may be equally right and just and proper to 
fix a certain limit to the use of this particular creature, 
and to confine all men and women that have respect to 
their comfort and welfare within those certain and defi- 
nite limits. Well, but it is undeniably said that the Bible 
records the case of many people who use wine, and there 
is no explicit condemnation of their use of it. Suppose 
we concede that for a moment ; there is no difficulty 
about it. You must be ready to admit, on the other 
hand, that in many places the Bible explicitly condemns 
the abuse of wine ; it explicitly speaks against strong 
drink ; it denounces it in the strongest language of 
which we know. Well, but it is said on the part of some : 
" You take the case of a good man like Timothy. Now, 
it is unquestionable that Timothy is express!)' enjoined 
he inspired writer to use a little win » for his sto- 
mach's sake and for his often infirmities/' I think that is ' 
tiie one text which the opponents of total abstinence 
know the best in the whole Bible. Indeed, it seems to 
me that if they had the making of a kind of eclectic Bible, 
that and two or three other texts would be about the 
whole of it. But it appears to me that they entirely mis- 
apprehend the force and meaning of that statement. If 



io8 Objections against Abstinence. 

one judges that statement correctly, it comes substan- 
tially to this : That whether he was right or wrong 
about the matter, Timothy's ordinary habit had been to 
drink water, and water only. That seems to be the clear, 
intelligible, and fair inference from the statement. But 
now an exceptional condition of his health had arisen, 
and, in view of that peculiar state of his health, the 
Apostle Paul, reflecting that wisdom and consideration 
by which the Bible is everywhere characterized, says, 
" Use no longer water, but use a little wine for thy sto- 
mach's sake and for thine often infirmities." And we 
should do precisely the same thing. We should not feel 
as an ordinary matter that there was anything in our 
principles of Christian temperance that interfered with 
our endorsing or accepting the counsel that was thus 
given ; but I would emphatically make it a very little 
wine for one's stomach sake. If any one is inclined to 
insist upon pushing the Scripture argument, there is an- 
other view that I would commend to the consideration 
of thoughtful people. Men will say to us, "Ah! yes, 
everybody is agreed that the abuses of the thing are very 
bad." There was a day within the memory of some here 
when people did not talk about the abuses, but they 
have been carried over that. They all admit the abuses 
are very bad ; they say, " Why don't you total abstinence 
people keep hammering at the abuses? Why do you talk 
so much against the uses?" Well, now, upon that subject 
there is something for fair and candid people to take 
into account. Is it not conceivable that the frequent 
use of a thing may become attended with evils so near, 
so palpable, so many, and so serious, that it will be wise 
for a good man to consider whether he ought not to 
forego even the use ? Was not that practically the con- 
dition in which the Apostle Paul found himself in another 
matter? Was not that practically the state of things 
that he contemplated when he said, " If meat make my 
brother to offend,. I shall eat no meat while the world 



The Drink ! Thi Drink ! 109 

Standeth ?" Was not that practically his state of mind in 
another case when he said, " It is good neither to eat 
flesh, nor to drink wine, nor anything whereby thy 
brother stumbleth, or is offended, or is made weak?" 
Does any man in his senses question that there are hun- 
dreds and thousands and tens of thousands of people 
made weak, made to stumble, and destroyed by the use 
of this thing ? 

Rev. John Hall, D.D. 



The Drink ! The Drink ! 

Come near, all ye who have learned to think, 

And hear me speak of the drink, the drink ; 

Come, male and female ; come, age and youth, 

And list while I tell the simple truth. 

It's bad for the brain, it's bad for the nerves, 

For the man that buys and the man that serves ; 

It's bad for the eyes, and it's bad for the breath, 

It's bad for life, and it's worse for death ; 

It's bad for the pocket, it's bad for the fame, 

It's bad when often it bears no blame; 

It's bad for friendship, it's worse for strife, 

It's bad for the husband, it's bad for the wife ; 

It's bad for the face, where the pimples come, 

It's bad for the children, and bad for the home ; 

It's bad when the tradesman's bill's to pay, 

It's bad— oh ! how bad — for a " rainy day " ; 

It's bad when it nerves a man to do 

The crime that he's not accustomed to. 

It was bad for the culprit who sighs in jail, 

It's bad for his wife — so pale, so pale ; 

It's bad for the strong, and it's bad for the weak, 

For the sallow tinge that it lend6 to the cheek ; 



no Pitcher or Jug? 

It's bad when the social glass we take, 

And bad next morning when wc awake ; 

It's bad for the day when you pay rent, 

And bad for the child with the pitcher sent; 

It is bad for the young who schooling lack, 

And bad for the clothes on the drunkard's back ; 

The ruffian's joy, the murderer's hope, 

The passport oft to the hangman's rope ; 

It's bad, as myriads who moan below, 

Could they once return, would be fain to show; 

It's bad in the morning, it's bad at night, 

Though the talk is loud, and the fire burns bright; 

It's bad, for it leads from bad to worse — 

Not only bad, but a giant curse ; 

The poor man's bane, destruction's gate, 

The church's shame, the blight of the state ; 

A poison fly, with a venomous sting, 

That makes our glory a tainted thing. 



Pitcher oy\ Jug ? 

Which, in the heat of noontide sun, 
Which, when the work of day is done, 
Refreshes most the weary one, 
Pitcher or jug ? 

Which makes strong to cradle the grain, 
Which heaps highest the harvest train, 
Which gives muscle and heart and brain. 
Pitcher or jug ? 

Which sows kindness over the soil, 
Lighting the heavy hours of toil, 
With friendly words that never roil, 
Pitcher or jug ? 



No Man has a Right to be Neutral. 1 1 1 

The pitcher, filled from the bubbling spring, 
Playing and spraying, 

Curling and whirling. 
Over the pebbles, under the hill. 
It cools the brow and steadies the brain, 
Making the faint one strong again. 
For its daily task it nerves the arm, 
And lends to labor a borrowed charm. 
It is a step on the road to wealth — 
Many a step in the way of health. 
It lightens home with a cheerful glow, 
And banishes from it useless woe ; 
It smiles on the children's winsome ways, 
And leaves no sting on the holidays ; 
So in all the best things a man will be richer 
If he gives up the jug, and drinks from the pitcher. 



No Man has a Right to be Neutral. 

No man has a right to be neutral in the great work of 
temperance, at this age, and in this country. Every 
man, from considerations of personal safe'ty, from moral 
considerations, from considerations of his relations to 
his fellow-men in social life, and from considerations of 
patriotism or of state, ought to take sides in this matter, 
and let his position be known of all men. It is too noto- 
rious to require any proof that, to a very great extent, 
especially in the cities, our legislation begins in the gr< g- 
shop. The seed of judges is planted there. Our admin- 
istrations spring out of the ooze and mud of drinking- 
holes. Our national councils are begun there. The ma- 
chinery of government is arranged there. There is no 
part of the community so active as that which lives in 



H2 Vote It Out. 

the indulgence of the animal appetites ; and there is no 
part of the community which should be watched over 
with such sleepless vigilance by those who, by sound 
morality and superior judgment, are fitted to wisely 
administer the affairs oi the nation. And the time has 
come when all good men, who have so long staid at home, 
and left the management of political affairs in the hands 
of dissipated and unscrupulous men, should come to- 
gether, and take the side of purity and temperance. We 
must produce a radical change in the public sentiment 
of the country on this vital question, or we shall be de- 
stroyed by the overwhelming deluge of the drinking 
habits of society. 

H. W. Beecher, 



Vote Tt Out. 



There's a nuisance in the land, 
Rank with age and foul with crime, 
Strong with many a legal band, 
Sanctioned by the touch of time ; 
Tis the question of the hour, 
How shall we all the wrong o'erpower f 

Vote it out; 
This will put the thing to rout. 

We have begged the traffic long, 
Begged it both with smiles and tears, 
To abate the flood of wrong, 
But it answered us with sneers ; 
We are weary of the scourge, 
This the way at last we urge : 
Vote it out ; 
Loyal people, raise the shout. 



Vote It Out. iv 3 

Tis the battle of the hour. 
Freemen, show your strength again; 
In the ballot is your power, 
This will bring the foe to pain ; 
We have preached against the wrong, 
x\rgued, plead, with words of song ; 
Votes are stout, 
Let us vote the traffic out. 

Vote it out of decency ; 
Vote it down a craven crime ; 
Let the fearful traffic be 
Branded for all coming time ; 
Draw the lines of right, and stand, 
Christian man, and show your hand ; 

Vote it out, 
Join it with your prayer devout. 

While the broken-hearted pray, 

Where the bitterest tears are poured, 

In low anguish every day, 

In the sight of God, the Lord, 

Let us pray and say " Amen," 

Lifting holy hands, and then 

Vote it out ; 
It will bring the victor's shout. 

Never shall the promise fail, 
God is with us for the right ; 
Truth is mighty to prevail, 
Faith shall end in joyous sight; 
We shall see the hosts of rum 
Palsied with affright and dumb ; 

Vote it out, 
This will put the trade to rout. 



H4 Streams of Pure Water. 



Streams of Pure Watef\, 

When Adam, the first of our ill-doing race, 
Was sent into Eden, that beautiful place, 
He drank of pure water, and thought no disgrace 
To drink of the streams of pure water. 



The whiskey may stir up your fancy awhile, 
Bat there's stuff in a glass all your visions to spoil ; 
And he that would still have his face wear a smile 
Must drink of the streams of pure water. 



Had Noah drunk water when wine was his fare, 
He had not been laughed at, as people declare; 
But wine he would have, and more than his share- 
He cared not for springs of pure water. 



So, good people, now it is plain to be seen, 
As the boys say that live in Old Erin the green, 
" That lumps of misfortune are kegs of poteen," 
But joy is in streams of pure water. 



Then here's to pure water, the life of the land, 

On honor's bright bosom it ne'er laid a brand ; 

And we, while it circles our dear rocky strand, 

Will sing of the streams of pure water. 



Moral Sentiment. 1 1 5 



J* 



oral Sentiment. 



After the victories of half a century, we at last con- 
front a moral foe whose dominion is co-extensive with 
the abode and business of man. What pre-eminent ques- 
tion is now before the moral world? Is it personal 
liberty? Domestic slavery has been destroyed from 
continent and island. The black man has risen to the 
dignity and to the immunities of manhood. In our own 
country he stands side by side with the Caucasian ; and 
whatever rights yet remain for him to enjoy he will soon 
receive. 

What remains now for us to do ? What great cause is to 
engage the affections, the zeal, the attention of all good 
persons in the church and out of the church ? I hold 
that that pre-eminent cause is the cause of temperance — 
a cause that carries its interests to the abode of every 
man : for the evils of intemperance are co-extensive with 
the home of every human being. Those evils are not 
confined to our Republic. They are felt through South 
America and Central America ; they are realized in all the 
great capitals of Europe ; they are experienced in Asia, 
Africa, and in the islands of the sea. Much has been 
accomplished, but much remains to be done. Some great 
facts are worthy of our cognizance, because they have 
received the approbation of every candid mind ; and 
first of all, the power and the wisdom of personal effort 
and of moral suasion in this great moral enterprise. I 
question whether there are two persons in any Christian 
land who disagree touching the power and the practica- 
bility of persuading men by personal effort to abandon 
the intoxicating cup. 

The law of limitation is as prevalent as law itself. This 
universe, from atoms to worlds, is subject to law, and 



n6 Moral Sentiment. 

atoms and worlds are subject to the limitations of law. 
Absolute liberty does not exist in God'* universe ; it can- 
not co-exist with God as the sovereign of the universe. 
Therefore, there must be a limit to law. What now re- 
mains to be accomplished? The creation of an intelli- 
gent and permanent moral sentiment touching this great 
cause; for back of constitutions, and back of laws, and 
back of administrations, there lies a moral sentiment 
which gives potency to law and authority to government. 
This fair Republic of ours would go to pieces, like a rope 
of sand, were it not for the existence and the sustaining 
of a moral sentiment in this country. I hold that this 
country is not governed so much by law as it is by moral 
sentiment. Moral sentiment here is more potent than 
government itself. It is moral sentiment that turns out 
the thieves and robbers from your city governments. 
Moral sentiment may be in a minority, but whenever 
moral sentiment is aroused on the side of right, it as- 
sumes the proportion of omnipotence, and it is equal to 
any and every emergency. Wickedness is always cow- 
ardly. One of the greatest of men has said, " The wicked 
flee when no man pursueth," and one gifted with a gen- 
ius as great, has said on the opposite side, 

" Thrice armed is he who hath his quarrel jnst ; 
And he but naked, though locked up in steel, 
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted." 

We wish, therefore, to create an intelligent and perma- 
nent moral sentiment on two things : first, that intempe- 
rance is an evil, only evil, and always evil, whether in the 
form of moderate drinking or in the form of habitual 
drunkenness. We want to create an intelligent perma- 
nent moral sentiment that civil law should be on the 
side of this grand cause. Where and how shall this 
moral sentiment be created? 

Rev. J. P. Newman. 



Where art You Going, Young Man? 117 



Where are You Going, Voung JWan ? 

Where are you going so fast, young man ? 

Where are you going so fast? 

With a cup in your hand, a ilush on your brow, 

Though pleasure and mirth may accompany you now, 

It tells of a sorrow to come by-and-by, 

It tells of a pang that is sealed with a sigh, 

It tells of a shame at last, young man — 

A withering shame that will last. 

Where are you going so fast, young man ? 

Where are you going so fast ? 

The flush of that wine there is only a bait, 

A curse lies beneath that you'll find when too late ; 

A serpent sleeps down in the depths of that cup, 

A monster is there that will swallow you up ; 

A sorrow you'll find at last, young man — 

In wine there is sorrow at last. 

Sorrow you'll find in that cup, young man, 

A giant lurks in that bright sparkle and foam, 

To rob you of manhood, of friends, and of home, 

To make you a brute, and to rob you of peace, 

To bind you in chains with no chance of release ; 

Vou die if you drink it up, young man — 

You die if you drink it up. 

There's a reckoning day to come, young man, 

V reckoning day to come, 

\ life yet to live, and a death yet to die, 

\ sad parting tear and a parting sigh, 

\ journey to take, and a famishing heart, 

\ sharp pang to feel from death's chilling dart, 

A curse if you drink that rum, young man — 

Bitterest curse in that rum, 



1 1 8 The Year that is to Come. 

Then halt in j^our mad career, young man, 
Halt in your maddened career, 
And read the sad warning beneath the wine, 
For this is the sentence, line upon line : 
Disaster and misery, sorrow and fear, 
Ruin, disgrace, and the world's taunting jeer, 
A soul that is lost with a leer, young man, 
A soul that is lost with a leer. 



The Yeaf^ that is to Come, 

What are we going to do, dear friends, 

In the year that is to come, 
To baffle that fearful fiend of death 

Whose messenger is rum? 
Shall we fold our hands and bid him pass, 

As he has passed heretofore, 
Leaving his deadly-poisoned draught 

At every unbarred door ? 

What are we going to do, dear friends ? 

Still wait for crime and pain, 
Then bind the bruises, and heal the wound* 

And soothe the woe again ? 
Let the fiend still torture the weary wife, 

Still poison the coming child, 
Still break the suffering mother's heart, 

Still drive the sister wild ? 

Still bring to the grave the gray-haired sire, 
Still martyr the brave young soul, 

Till the waters of death, like a burning stream, 
O'er the whole great nation roll, 



The Year that is to Come. 119 

And poverty take the place of wealth, 

And sin, and crime, and shame 
Drag down to the very depths of hell 

The highest and proudest name? 

Is this our mission on earth, dear friends, 

In the years that are to come? 
If not, let us rouse and do our work 

Against this spirit of rum. 
There is not a soul so poor and weak, 

In all this goodly land, 
But against this evil a word may speak, 

And lift a warning hand. 

And lift a warning hand, dear friends, 

With a cry for her home and hearth, 
Adding voice to voice, till the sound shall sweep* 

Like rum's death-knell, o'er the earth, 
And the weak and wavering shall hear, 

And the faint grow brave and strong, 
And the true, and good, and great, and wise 

Join hands to right this wrong. 

Till a barrier of bold and loving hearts 

So deep and broad, is found, 
That no spirit of rum can overleap, 

Pass through, or go around. 
Then the spirit of rum shall surely die; 

For his food is human lives, 
And only on hourly sacrifice 

The demon lives and thrives. 

And can we not do this, dear friends, 

In the years that are to come ? 
Let each one work to save and keep 

Her loved ones and her home ; 



1 20 Drinking for Health. 

Then the ransomed soul shall send to heaven 

A song without alloy, 
And " the morning stars together sing, 

And God's sons shout for joy." 

Mrs. F. D. Gage. 



Prinking for Health. 

Our homes are becoming fountain-heads of drunken- 
ness. Wines and other drinks are on the tables, not only 
on special occasions, but regularly ; and wives, mothers, 
and sisters, instead of frowning upon their use, encour- 
age it by their example. How common it is for gentle- 
men in the chop-houses and restaurants to call for liquor 
at lunch, while at home they daily use wine or ale — " as a 
medicine, " ofcourse ! 

Now, what is the cause of this drift towards drinking 
for health ? And who is directly responsible for it? The 
people themselves are chiefly responsible. They acquiesce 
in alcoholic prescriptions by the medical profession, and 
support by their patronage the villanous compounds 
which w r ould otherwise prove profitless. Mothers are 
knowingly giving liquors in some shape to their infants 
(besides taking it themselves), and tens of thousands of 
otherwise sensible people have come to believe that they 
must have some strong drink. 

A little must be taken for " weakness of the stomach, " 
and a " faintness " and " goneness " of feeling when they 
get up. It must be sipped with the lunch, and drunk after 
dinner to " help digestion "; and they must have a " night- 
cap " before they go to bed ! It would be a curious spec- 
tacle if the cellars, vaults, closets, and garrets of all the 
houses around us were to disgorge the filled and empty 
bottles that they contain, marked with some inscriptions 
of porter, ale, wine, tonics, bitters, and the like I 



Drinking for Health. 1 2 1 

But you saw v ' 1 take a little stimulant to kelp digestion .'* 
Then you are behind the clay — you arc not posted; for 
the popular fallacy you hold is now thoroughly exploded. 
Do you not preserve things — that is, keep them from dis- 
solution — by alcohol, as when you preserve a piece of 
meat or an animal or a reptile in it? The truth is that 
stimulants /under digestion. The stomachs of men dying 
after two days' steady drunkenness have been opened, 
and the food was found wholly undigested — preserved, as 
snakes are, in alcohol I Mix gastric juice into crushed 
meat, and it readily dissolves ; put in beer or wine in- 
stead, and it dissolves but little ; put in alcohol, and you 
preserve it I This tells the story. 

If you say a glass of brandy or light wine gives relief 
after an excessive meal, I will tell you why : not because 
digestion is aided, but because the stomach is narcotized ox 
stupefied. The nerves are deadened for the time, and, 
therefore, you do not feel pain. The same is true when a 
sense of hunger and exhaustion from want of food is re- 
lieved by a drink of spirits. In both cases, a few drops 
of laudanum or a small dose of morphine would produce 
a precisely similar effect. 

Settle it in the mind, then, that no spirituous liquors 
can be conducive to good health. They do not give 
strength ; they do not add warmth to the blood ; they 
do not assist digestion. The best trainers strictly forbid 
their use to those striving for the highest physical de- 
velopment ; and the brute creation are healthy without 
them. '* In the natural world, the blackbird, thrush, 
canary, and nightingale drink nothing but water, and 
smoke nothing but fresh air. A grove or wood in spring 
echoes with feathered musicians, each a teetotaler, ever 
singing, and never dry." 

Preposterous is it to imagine that men will thrive on 
what no other living thing can be made to touch ! 

Rev. H, C, Fish* 



122 One Night with Gin, 



One Night with Gin. 



I'll take some sugar and gin, if you please ; 
I've a hacking cough perhaps 'twill ease ; 
Exposed myself yesterday ; caught a severe cold— - 
And something warm— for it's good, I am told. 

Some say it's injurious; and no doubt it is 

To men who can't drink- and attend to their biz; 

I have my opinion of men who cannot 

Drink now and then without being a sot* 

Wasting their lives, stunting their brains^ 
Binding their families in poverty's chains, 
Seeking a bed in the gutter, like swine, 
Forgetting they're human for whiskey and wine. 

But of course you don't sell to that class of men ; 
Don't blame you — correct — there's nothing in them ; 
They're a damage to trade ; they injure your bar 
More than their purses contribute, by far. 

Another glass, if you please ; that's excellent gin ; 
My cough I think 's better than when I came in \ 
Import this yourself? From Holland, you say? 
Like your taste for pure drinks. Here's a V ; take 
your pay. 

By the Temperance Society I'm annoyed and perplexed* 
Coaxed to join their society until I am vexed — 
A piece of absurdity too foreign to think, 
That one can't indulge in a good social drink. 



One Night with Gin. 123 

Over myself I know I've control, 

I can sip now and then from the rich, flowing bowl, 

Drink or not drink, do either with ease — 

What a pity all men can't do as they please ! 



Have a drink, did you say? Thank you, here's luck ; 
That's the genuine article — no common truck. 
When I start, prepare me a flask of that old, 
For I'm certain it's helping my terrible cold. 

So fill up the glasses, and now drink with me, 
I've plenty of money — if you don't believe it, see ; 
Look at these fifties, these twenties, this ten ; 
Here's to you, drink hearty, and (hie) fill 'em again. 

Stranger, (hie) Fm getting tired on my feet, 
So let's fill up and drink, (hie) then find a seat. 
(Hie) I like your appearance, (hie) can see in your face 
That confidence in you is never misplaced. 

With your permission, I'll (hie) rest here a spell, 
For, mister, (hie) the fact is, I'm not (hie) feeling well» 
Guess you may give me (hie) a glass of that best ; 
I think it's first-rate for a cold (hie) in the chest. 

Heavy eyes, heavy heart, thirsty, and mad ; 

The gin is all gone, the head's feeling bad ; 

The tongue's dry and parched ; he calls for a drink 

To waken his wits and help him to think. 

Then looks for his friend, the one of last night, 

So winning and pleasant, so kind and polite; 

But he's gone, and a rough-looking man's in his 

place, 
With a dark, evil eye and a coarse, bearded face. 



124 Prohibition. 

He's told that his " friend" so genial and witty, 
Receiving a despatch, has just left the city ; 
The wretched young man then feels for his purse, 
Only to ejaculate " Gone J '" with a curse. 

He appeals to the bar, charges robbery, theft, 
Calls for the man he's informed has just left, 
Then gently reminded they do not permit 
Their establishment cursed in a mad drunken fit ; 

That he never lost money, had none to lose, 
Himself a thief, vagabond, thus to abuse 
A respectable house, where gentlemen come 
To socially quaff their ale, gin, and rum. 

Then rudely cast in the cold, open street, 
Moneyless, hungry, nothing to eat — 
No food for thought but reflection of shame, 
And a head half-crazed with a sobering pain. 



f 



ROHIBITION. 



I'm a thorough-going temperance man ; 
The crimes and woes of the world I scan ; 

I pit)^ its hard condition ; 
The fountain of wrong I'd for ever dry, 
To stop the flow, I'd stop the supply — 

And this is prohibition. 

If I knew a baker so badly bold 
That in every loaf of bread he sold 

Was arsenic, in secret glutition, 
I'd oven him up in stone walls four, 
Where he could peddle out death no more- 

And this is prohibition. 



Prohibition. 125 

If a butcher I saw in the market street 
Who murdered the people with putrid meat, 

The infamous sen of perdition ! 
I'd stall him where his stand would be sure, 
His bread all plain, and his water pure — 

And this is prohibition. 

If I heard a serpent hid in the grass, 
Who stung every traveller certain to pass, 

I'd curb his thirsty ambition ; 
An iron heel on his head I'd bring, 
I'd crush out his life with its devilish sting— 

And this is prohibition. 

If I had a fold, where the wolf crept in, 
And ate up my sheep and lambs, like sin, 

I'd hold him in tight partition ; 
I'd choke the howl of his tainted breath, 
And save my flock by his instant death — 

And this is prohibition. 

If an ox, let loose in a crowded lawn, 
Were wont to kill with his angry horn, 

All heedless of mortal petition ; 
I'd cleave his skull with a swift swung ax, 
And bury his horn in his bloody tracks — 

And this is prohibition. 

If I met a dog that was wont to bite, 
Who worried my neighbors, day and night, 

I'd fix him by demolition ! 
In spite of his waggings, and yelpings, and tears, 
I'd cut off his tail just back of his ears — 

And this is prohibition. 

Rev. C. W. Denison. 



126 Beware! 



f 



EWARE 



All inspiration combines to give fearful and impressive 
warning. From this very inspired Word, where God de- 
clares that no drunkard should enter the kingdom of 
heaven, there comes a voice from the Infinite lips saying 
to you and to me and to all : " Beware, beware !" In that 
land where the streets are gold, and the gates are pearl, 
and the walls are jasper and sapphire, the finger of God 
has written, " No drunkard shall enter here/' No drunk- 
ard shall sit down in the kingdom of heaven. I know 
not why it is there. It may be because he has volunta- 
rily debased the image of God in which he was created. 
It may be because he has given himself up to the tempta- 
tion which leads one away from that which is of good re- 
port, virtuous, and just. But whatever may be the rea- 
son, from that book which never errs comes this warn- 
ing to us, " Beware ! " To you it says, " Beware ! " To 
the moderate drinker it says, " Beware ! " The man you 
met this afternoon reeling in his cups on the sidewalk — 
the man you have seen drinking at the counter of the 
lowest saloon, began just as you begin. Poor-houses and 
prisons say to you, " Beware ! " They whose arms were 
nerve, and whose forms were grace, to-day, dead from 
intoxication, say to you, with their gloomy lesson, "Be- 
ware ! " Homes once happy, now miserable ; wives once 
joyous in the love of their husbands, now turned to ha- 
tred, while the caresses of the husband are turned to 
abuse, and competence to poverty, from the midst of 
their miseries and desolation warn you and exclaim, " Be- 
ware ! " 

Choose you this day whether you and yours will stand 
with us on the rock of safety, above the snares, and evil, 
and anguish, and misery, and woe, and desolation of the 
tempter ; whether, defying the warnings that nature and 



Filled with Wine 127 

inspiration combine to give, you will go down, down, 
after the first step (for it is always the first that costs), 
that easy descent, until at last, wretched and dishonored, 

having lost the respect of others and your own self-re- 
spect, you end a miserable life by a home in a tomb, from 
which there is, if inspiration be true, no resurrection that 
shall take you to a better land. Does not your hope for 
happiness here and hereafter give emphasis to that one 
word which embodies all I can say to you, which comes 
from God's own lips, " Beware "? 

Schuyler Colfax. 



Filled with Wine. 



The following ode was written by L. M. Sargent, the 
distinguished author of " Sargent's Temperance Tales," in 
1837, for the Massachusetts Temperance Society, based 
on the following passage of Scripture: 

"Thou shalt speak unto them this word: Thus saith the Lord God of 
Israel, Every bottle shall be til ed with wine ; and they shall say unto thee, 
Do we not certainly know that every bottle shall be filled with wine ? Then 
shalt thou say unto them, Thus saith the Lord, Behold, I will fill all the in- 
habitants of this land, even the kings that sit upon David's throne, and the 
priests, and the prophets, and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem, with drunken- 
ness. And I will dash them one against another, even the fathers and the 
sons together, saith the Lord ; I will not pity, nor spare, nor have mercy, 
but destroy them."— Jeremiah xiii ; 12—14. 

When Israel's God in his anger had spoken, 

The prophet prefigured the curse that he willed; 

It was not that life's golden bowl should be broken, 
But every bottle with wine should be filled. 

The priest of the altar, besotted and sunken, 

Was wrapped in the vengeance that Heaven had hurled ; 

Kings, prophets, and patriarchs drank, and were 
drunken — 
The grape's purest juice was the curse of the world. 



128 Never Begin, 



£> ■ 



Their bottles were filled with the nectar that gladdens 
The heart, which the patriarch drew from the vine ; 

And not with that tincture of ruin that maddens — 
God's vials of wrath were their bottles of wine I 

Avert, God of mercy, that sorrow and sadness 
That broke the fond hearts of Jerusalem then ; 

Permit not the spirit of murder and madness 
To move with the form and the features of men I 

Oh ! let us not torture the treasures of heaven 
To find where the secret of misery lies ; 

The stream as it ripples, the rock that is riven^ 
The pure draught of nature for mortal supplies. 

The bonds of the bacchanal hence lei us sever, 
The draught that bewilders the reason, resign ; 

The type of the prophet be cherished for ever — 
God's vials of wrath were their bottles of wine I 



Neyef^ Begin. 

In going down-hill on a slippery track, 
The going is easy, the task getting back; 
But you'll not have a tumble, a slip, nor a stop, 
Nor toil from below,, if you stay at the top. 

So from drinking, and swearing, and every sin r 
You are safe and secure if you never begin ; 
Then never begin I never begin I 
You cannot be a drunkard unless you begin. 

So in mounting a ladder, or scaling a wall, 

You may climb to the top, or be bruised by a fall ; 

My philosophy's this, and I think it is sound : 

If not needed above, to remain on the ground. 



Shall We Fail'? 



129 



Some boast they can stand on the cataract's brink- 
Some do it, but some topple over and sink ; 
Then I think, to be safe, the most sensible plan 
Is to keep from the brink just as far as you can. 

In a journey you may have to make the descent, 
By climbing, a danger to others prevent ; 
You may rescue the child from the rock's giddy shelf 
But never save sinners by sinning yourself. 

So from drinking, and swearing, and every sin, 
You are safe and secure if you neve7' begin. 

Edward Carswell 



Shall We Fail? 



Soldiers of the Temperance army ! gird yourselves, for 
the conflict is not over. Behold the bar-rooms in our 
midst. See their fiery contents as they stand like some 
burning volcanos, and we know not at what moment we 
may be overwhelmed by them. Oh ! shall we slumber 
beneath the fires of Vesuvius and Etna, and be not 
alarmed ? 

Methinks I hear the cry of fire, fire ! rolling from the 
sultry belt to either pole. The world is on fire ! burn- 
ing up with the liquid fire — more terrific in its march 
than the Chicago flames ! The cold-water army is on its 
march to extinguish the fire. If we succeed, we will pro- 
claim a year of Jubilee — the world redeemed from the 
curse of dissipation. 

" Shout, earth ! shout, heaven ! " 

Then I would want our planet environed with a zodiac 
of unfading rainbow splendor, and inscribed on it, over 
either continent, in every dialect of earth, in burning 
characters, the golden inscription, "The world is re- 



130 Come and Join Us. 

deemed from the curse of dissipation." That all nations 
might sit beneath the soul-cheering ark, and shout and 
sing the song of that redemption at once and for ever ! 
Then the angels that in their flight from world to world 
bend their course to shun this bedlam of the universe, 
will turn out of their way to visit a second Paradise. 
Then will the temperance orders bathe our planet in an 
atmosphere of perfume " sweeter than Arabia sacrificed, 
and the spicy mountains in a flame." 

On the other hand, if we are finally overrun with 
drunkenness, when the vision of the " black horse " shall 
appear, then will I ask his " rider " to release me from 
the horrid scenes that will ensue. The land of inebriates ! 
the drunkard's planet ! Let all nature mourn at the 
thought. Let the verdure of earth be withered, and the 
continent dressed in black, the ocean covered in sack- 
cloth, and the heavens spread with mourning ! Then let 
this dark planet be rolled down to the black portals of 
perdition, where men and devils, exchanging visits, may 
claim each other as appropriate neighbors. 

That total abstinence may ever peal in your ear, let my 
last word be abstain. May the angel, conscience, ever 
and anon whisper in your ear — abstain ; breezes of earth 
bear it across the continent — abstain ; billows of ocean 
roll it to the distant shores — abstain ; heavens above 
congeal and echo back in world-wide thunder tones- 
abstain ! 

Watson M. Vaughan. 



Come and Join Us 



Oh ! not with the fife and the murderous knife, 
And the rolling sound of the battle-drum, 

And the dreadful waste of human life, 
Do the glowing ranks of our army come ; 



Come and Join Us, 131 

But merrily, right merrily, 

And cheerily we go, 
So readily and steadily, 

To battle with the foe. 



With glad voice of song we are moving along, 

While the breezes soft on our banners blow ; 
Tis the children's army, brave and strong, 
And we march where the clear running waters flow: 
O'er mountain side the fountain tide 

In bounding pride is seen, 
Now leaping down and sweeping down 
Through all the meadows green. 

Ho ! boys, and ye girls with the soft, sunny curls, 
Come and join the band of the brave and fair; 
See our banner — look! how bright it unfurls, 
Perfumed by the kiss of the fragrant air; 
Unite with us, to fight with us, 

And smite with us the foe; 
Then, wondering and thundering, 
He'll tumble at the blow. 



There's no one so young but can battle with wrong, 

There is no one living too old to mend ; 
Come and help to slay the monster strong, 
And the reign of King Alcohol shall end. 
We'll water him and slaughter him, 

And bury him full low, 
Beyond the reach of all who teach 
The drunkard's way to go. 

George S. Burleigh. 



132 "Pure Liquor" 



• •Pure Liquoi\ r ' 

Died on Frida}', the paper said, 

Of delirium tremens, kind-hearted Fred. 

Simple the words, but they tell a tale 

Which makes the faces of men grow pale ; 

That chills the blood and freezes the heart, 

As they dream and wake with a feverish start 

At thought of the maniac, fettered and bound T 

Of the heart-broken family weeping around, 

Mourning for him once so cheery and strong; 

Weeping for him who was father so long; 

Working- steady and working well, 

With ceaseless clang the hammer fell ; 

We heard it clear on the morning air, 

At eve it told us Fred was there ; 

For twenty years scarce missing a day, 

Early and late, the neighbors say. 

Once a faithful husband, a father kind, 

Then a raging maniac, body and mind ; 

A liquid hell in his burning veins, 

Racked and torn by distorting pains, 

Cowering and shrinking in trembling dread 

From the conjured monster with hydra-head ; 

Raving and cursing when the fever burns, 

Moans and prays when reason returns; 

His throbbing temples seeming to burst — 

Slowly dying with the terrible thirst ; 

Slowly, surely ; passing away ; 

Slowly changing from flesh to clay. 

Again delirium howls and reels 

At sight of terrors it sees and feels ; 

He struggles to close, in deadly strife, 

With the famishing demon that seeks his life. 

He falls and falls ; with a last, long cry, 

Evil has won, and he must die. 



A Word of Wanking. 133 

The gasping breath — the end comes soon — 

Silence falls in that death-laden room ; 

A hollow rattle, a quiver — lie's dead ! 

All that was earthly of our neighbor Fred. 

And they've taken him over on the Island Hill; 

There he is lying now, cold and still. 



ft Word of Warning. 

Doubtless you are ready to say that you stand in no 
danger from intemperance ! So have numbers before 
you thought, whose last days were days of anguish and 
wretchedness, the ark of whose ruined fortunes has 
floated upon a sea of tears, shed by a broken-hearted and 
sorrowing wife, or by an aged father and mother, whose 
gray hairs had been brought to the grave in mourning 
and grief. Can there be any moderate and safe use of ar- 
dent spirits? You might as well talk of carding a torch 
into a magazine of powder, where a single spark would 
rend the earth. Suppose as many lives were lost by the 
cars on our railroads as are lost by intemperance yearly, 
in the state ; w r ho would step aboard a single one of them ? 
Why, you would call him a madman who would dare 
place his foot upon one of them ; yet you think nothing 
of entering the Car of Intemperance, whose boilers are 
every day bursting, scattering death and misery in all di- 
rections. Remember that small beginnings lead to great 
results. Stephen Girard was once a penniless vagabond ; 
the small stream in the snowy climes of the north be- 
comes the mighty Mississippi when it reaches the sunny 
borders of the south. The drop of ardent spirits taken 
in youth swells to the giant in mature age ; the tempe- 
rate drinker in the morn of life becomes the ruined in- 
ebriate in the end. 



134 The Children s Army. 



The Children's Army. 

A word to the little children, 

The children good and true : 
Come, join the temperance army, 

And fight the battle through. 
Here's wine, and beer, and cider — 

Fair little snakes that creep 
Around our own dear hearth-stones, 

And fatten while we sleep. 



Boys, set your heel upon them, 

Don't toy with them, I pray ; 
For they'll sting you while you pet them, 

While they seem in sportive play. 
Here's the dirty page, Tobacco, 

Who waits on the rum-king, 
And to his treacherous clutches 

Does many a victim bring. 

Don't take a filthy meerschaum 

Or odorous cigar 
Into your rosy lips, boys ; 

Twere better, sirs, by far 
To lose your tops and marbles, 

Your skates and treasures fine, 
Than to lose your hope of manhood 

In tobacco or in wine. 

A true and noble boyhood 

Will make a manhood fine ; 
Then shun the treacherous cider, 

Tobacco, ale, and wine, 



77/ c Little Boys Song, 135 

And join you all together 

In a legion good and true, 
To fight for truth and temperance 

Till you see the battle through. 

Mrs. E. J. Richmond. 



The Little Boy's Song. 

Ladies and gentlemen, 

List to my song — 
Huzza ! for temperance 

All the day long ! 
1*11 taste not, handle not, 

Touch not the wine ; 
For every little boy, like me, 

The temperance pledge should sign. 

I am a temperance boy 

Just four years old, 
And I love temperance 

Better than gold. 
I'll taste not, handle not, 

Touch not the wine ; 
For every little boy, like me, 

The temperance pledge should sign. 

Let every little boy 

Remember my song, 
For God loves little boys 

That never do wrong. 
I'll taste not, handle not, 

Touch not the wine ; 
For every little boy, like me, 

The temperance pledge should sign. 



1 36 The Cold- Water A rmy. 



The Cold-Wate^ Army. 

a speech by a young recruit. 

1 am a high private in the cold-water army ! I joined 
this noble band two months ago with the brave boys 
you see here to-night. I enlisted for life, or until the 
old enemy, King Alcohol, and his army of drunkards and 
dram-shops are driven from our country, and peace and 
good-will is established all over our happy country. 

But you are ready to ask me, What does such a boy as 
you know about drunkards or dram-shops, or old King 
Alcohol's army? It is true I never was drunk, and I 
never intend to be; but I have lived long enough to 
know the difference between a drunkard and a sober 
man, and to know what makes drunkards and what 
makes sober men ; and so may every boy and girl who 
will look around them and study the teachings of na- 
ture. 

Suppose we walk out upon our extensive plains and 
prairies, and see the stately ox, the noble horse, the 
playful and sporting lambs, and all the healthy and happy 
herds, rejoicing in their strength. I see they feed upon 
grass, and grow fat ; but ask them what they drink, and 
with one united and cheerful voice they all answer. 
Water ! Pure cold water — nothing else ! 

Again, let us ramble off through the forest, and gaze 
upon the majestic oaks, the stately pines, with their ever- 
green plumes waving in the fresh breezes of heaven, 
with the ten thousand varieties of fruits, foliage, and 
flowers, all rejoicing in their strength, beauty, and fra- 
grance ; all mingling in peace and harmony, to give a 
charm to nature's garden ! Let us ask them what they 
drink ; and again, with a wave of their plumes and smil- 
ing flowers, they all answer: Water / Pure cold water — 
nothing else. 



The Cold-Wafer Army. 137 

And heie, too, in this forest of trees, foliage, and 
flowers, the whole scene is animated and sweetened by 
the songs of the happy birds ; each sporting and war- 
bling forth its merry song, giving life and beauty to the 
whole scene. When I ask them what they drink, they 
ail chatter forth in gladness: Water! Water! Pure 
cold water— nothing else. 

But above all, when I look upon the best of men, 
those who are wise, pious, and prosperous, who live in 
loving fellowship with their families and neighbors, and 
on whom the church and country depend for all that is 
true and valuable, I watch them to see what they drink, 
and I find it is water, pure cold water — nothing else. 

Yes, all these drink water, that pure beverage that God 
has made, and which he has so abundantly supplied to 
all the animate world ! He showers it down from 
heaven ! He fills our rivulets and rivers with it. It is 
as free as the air all breathe ! It is pure and healthful to 
all. It is just suited to our wants and nature. There is 
no serpent's sting about it — no lurking adder there. This 
is the drink for me, boys ; it will never muddle my brains 
nor destroy my manhood. Yes, I am a cold-water boy ! 

But aA do not drink cold water ! Let us look about 
and see who they are, and what they drink ! 

As I pass along the streets, I see men staggering, 
swearing, and acting very ugly in all sorts of ways, and 
finally falling in the muddy gutters ! I slip up to them, 
and ask them what they drink, and they growl out, 
Whiskey! bad whiskey ! 

I see and hear of men getting drunk, fighting, shooting, 
and killing each other for the merest trifles, and wonder 
how men can act so badly ; and when I enquire what they 
drink, I find it is whiskey and lager ! 

When you visit the prisons, penitentiaries, and all 
places where criminals are kept and punished, you will 
find they drink bad whiskey, which biteth like a serpent 
and stingeth like an adder. 



138 My Grandpa. 

Whiskey robs men of their brains, consumes their pro- 
perty, ruins their character, takes their lives, and sends 
their souls to ruin. 

Then why will men drink such deadly stuff? There is 
not a buzzard in the woods, nor an old sow in the streets, 
that could be made to drink it, and how can any one ask 
me to touch it? 

Come boys, all of you, and join our cold-water arm}'-, 
and fight manfully for the cause. We shall soon grow up 
to be men, sober men, and be ready for duty, let the call 
come from what quarter it may. Success to the cold- 
water cause ! 



fA.p 



RANDPA. 



Few boys have grandpas as good as mine ; 

He is eighty years old, to be sure ; 
Yet he never meddled with whiskey or wine, 

But drank of the water pure. 
He does not chew, or smoke, or snuff 
Tobacco, but hates the poison stuff; 
So he is hale and hearty, and hobbles about, 
And, though rather lame, it is not with the gout 
Very few of his age are half so stout — 
Of course he an't spry, as he used to be 
When he was a boy like you and me. 



He used to go out with us boys to the grove, 

To gather the nuts as they fell ; 
But now he's too lame, so he sits by the stove, 

And the queerest stories he'll tell 
Of how, when a boy, he could climb with ease 



My Grandpa. 139 

To the very tops of the tallest trees, 

And shake down the walnuts as oft as he'd please; 

But now old grandpa an't smart at all, 

And scarcely can climb o'er the garden wall. 



He laughs at the pranks we children play, 

And seems so happy and glad ; 
And he tells us all about the way 

They played 'em when he was a lad ; 
How they built snow forts, and stormed 'em too, 
How they scuffled and scrambled, and snow-balls flew-, 
And all the wild frolics the boys went through ; 
Why, boys, w r e laughed till our sides were sore 
When he told us all this and a great deal more. 



He gave us a temperance talk last week, 
About thousands destroyed by drink ; 

And as he talked, I saw on his cheek 
A tear, and I could but think 

That perhaps some loved one, bright and fair, 

A brother or son, had been caught in the snare; 

Yet to ask him about it I did not dare. 

But I'll tell you what, boys, I have heard enough 

To make me afraid of the poison stuff. 

Our lips no wine shall ever pass, 

Nor ale, to muddle our brains ; 
Poor swearing Sam may swallow his glass, 

And be an old bloat for his pains ; 
Our drink shall be of the crystal spring, 
For poor-house board is not the thing, 
Or the gallows' rope a desirable swing; 
The poor-house, and poison, and gallows' rope 
Will never be used for our " Band of Hope." 

Dr. Charles Jewett. 



140 Don't Drink — Its Name ts Legion. 



Don't Drink ! 

Don't drink, boys, don't ! 
There is nothing of happiness, pleasure, or cheer 
In brandy, in whiskey, in rum, ale or beer; 
If they cheer you when drank, you are certain to pay t 
In headaches and crossness, the following day. 

Don't drink, boys, don't ! 

Boys, let it alone ! 
Turn your back on your aeadliest enemy, Drink ! 
An assassin disguised ; nor for one moment think, 
As some rashly say, that true women admire 
The man who can boast th^t he's playing with fire. 

Boys, let it alone ! 

No, boys, don't drink ! 
If the habit's begun, stop now! stop to-day! 
Ere the spirit of thirst leads you on and away 
Into vice, shame, and drunkenness. This is the goal 
Where the spirit of thirst leads the slave of the bowl. 

No, boys, don't drink ! 

Ella Wheeler. 



Tts Name is Legion, 

If war has slain its thousands, intemperance has slain 
its tens of thousands. And where is the father who 
would not prefer to see his son shot down before his 
face, than to behold him poisoned to a degrading death 
by these foul harpies whom Legion has employed .' 

And who are the men whose fate has thus Deen Ua^ed 
in hopeless ruin ? 



Its Name is Legion. 141 

They arc young. They were seized and bound while 
young. Hardly one in hundreds has passed the maturity 
of his earthly days. Did they begin as purposed, willing 
drunkards ? Nothing was further from their thoughts or 
their desires. They have waded out most gradually, al- 
most imperceptibly, into the deep. They then looked 
down upon the inebriate sot with sorrow and contempt, 
as others now look down upon them. They started with 
the drop which their fathers gave them, or with the offer- 
ed glass of friendship, at noon or night, when they lack- 
ed the courage to refuse. The demon seized them when 
they were sheltered, as they thought, far from his abodes, 
and led them on, his purpose fixed, though yet unknown 
to them, for their final ruin. 

Where did this work of ruin begin? Do not tell me at 
the tavern or in haunts like that. What gave to pure 
and innocent youth that taste for taverns? Where 
did they get the appetite which sought its objects and its 
pleasures there ? You will be compelled to look back 
far beyond this final limit, and to feel and to acknow- 
ledge the responsibility often coming far nearer home. 
The moderate drinker is but an indentured apprentice to 
the drunkard. A gracious divine Providence may cripple 
his ability in his youth, and he may not thoroughly learn 
his trade. But the habitual glass, however apparently 
refined, signs his indenture. And no one who starts in 
the imitation of the craft, or who leads another to take a 
single step in its clearly-marked line, has power to define 
the limits of the course. 

God grant that we may never live to see our sons and 
daughters, so precious in our sight, cast out to perish 
under the destroying power of this Legion demon ! But 
if we would avoid this terrible sorrow, let us avoid all 
connection with the habit or the trade. Let us remem- 
ber that he plucks the lambs from the flock at home, and 
selects the victims for his holocausts when they and 
theirs least expect his approach. If you will save the 



142 The Youthful Advocate, 

souls of your children from the destruction, or your- 
selves from all participation in the ruin, banish the " ac- 
cursed thing" from your habitations; lock up the tempt- 
ing bottles from their sight; and neither have, nor use, 
nor offer upon your tables this unnecessary inducement 
to vice, this direct provision for impoverishment of the 
health, poison to the bodies, and destruction of the souls 
of yourselves, and your children, and your friends. 

Rev. Stephen H. Tyng, D.D 



Jhe Youthful Advocate. 

I AM but a little teetotal man, 

And cannot do much, but I do what I can 

To promote the temperance cause. 
I never drink ale or any such thing 
As brandy or rum, wine, whiskey, or gin — 

Man's curse, and the cause of his woes. 

I drink cold water, so clear and so sweet ; 

It quenches my thirst, gives health to my cheek, 

And brings neither sorrows nor woes. 
It comes from above, so bright and so free; 
In dewdrops it shines like pearls from the sea ; 

And in streams of abundance it flows. 

Enriching the soil, it supplies us with bread, 
Gives life to the flowers in the green, grassy mead, 

And meets us where'er we may rove. 
The beautiful birds, in the midst of their song, 
Stop and drink from the brook as it murmurs along 

Through brake and through woodland and 
grove. 



I have Signed the Pledge. 143 

Would you sing, like the birds, with sweetness and 

power, 
Or, blooming in beauty, outrival the flower, 

With cheeks fresh and healthy as mine? 
Make water your drink, and unite heart and hand 
To rescue and save every child in the land, 

And the pledge of true temperance sign. 

Uncle Potter. 



j have Signed the Pledge. 

1 have signed the pledge, the temperance pledge? 

Such a little boy as I? you say; 
Oh ! yes, I am small ; and so is the edge 

Of your broadax ; but it spreads away 
To a noble head, and the chips must go 
When it hews to the line with blow on blow I 



I have signed the pledge, the guardian pledge, 
That none who Walk are too small to sign. 

Too small? 'Tis the little end of the wedge 
That starts the crack in the knotted pine ; 

Let it begin there, and it rips 

The sturdiest oak into basket-strips. 



I have signed the pledge, the beautiful pledge ; 

I will keep it — it keeps me no less ; 
Vou guard young corn with a sturdy hedge, 

Our young souls need it as well, I guess: 
We little blades beginning to shoot 
Have a tempting look to the old black goat! 



144 The Liquor Revenue. 

1 have signed the pledge, the glorious pledge ; 

And though I am small and my years are few, 
I grow — 'tis a smart boy's privilege ! — 

And I'll pick up time as fast as you ! 
The wedge grows into me, one live bough. 
As the buds you set in a sapling grow! 

I have signed the pledge, the living pledge ; 

One chance the jail and the poor-house lose; 
There's one less chance for the river-dredge 

To be clogged with a sot in its dripping ooze; 
And one bid more for the crown that waits 
The virtuous man at the golden gates. 

George S. Burleigh. 



The Liquor Revenue, 

There are a good many hypocrisies in the world, I 
am afraid ; and everybody that I ever knew condemns 
hypocrisy. It is sometimes charged upon Christian 
societies ; the world is uncharitable enough to do 
that at times. 

Now, I say here, with the most perfect soberness and 
deliberateness, that of all the hypocrisies of which I 
have- ever heard or read, I think the hypocrisy that 
affects to look with suspicion upon this movement, lest 
the revenue should suffer, is the most groundless, the 
most impudent, and the most absurd. Oh ! but men say, 
" Look here, suppose that the whole business of drinking 
is put an end to, and suppose you fanatical total abstain- 
ers had your way, and we became an absolutely total 
abstinence people, what in the world would ever become 
of the United States without the revenue ?" Just think 
of one of my countrymen (and I am sorry to say it), not 
particularly well clothed, blear-eyed, with face pebbled 



The Liquor Revenue, 145 

over with strawberries, turning- oil his glass of whiskey, 
or whatever other vile compound may pass under that 
name, and with a great look of virtue and public spirit 
saying, "Why, my fellow-citizens, I am doing this thing 
pro bono publico" Why, my dear friends, the thing is too 
absurd ; and these people do not believe a word of it. 
But if they did and if there were any real sincerity in 
them, the objector can be fairly met upon his own 
ground. Is there any sensible man in this meeting — and 
there are a great many here — who does not know, upon 
ten minutes' reflection, that, if you could subtract to- 
morrow from the public funds of this country all that 
comes into those funds through the liquor traffic, in less 
than one year there would come back in various ways 
into those coffers, or, which is the same thing, into the 
substantial strength and prosperity of the country, ten 
times as much saved in increased honesty and fidelity, in 
the cost of taking care of the paupers, in the cost of 
detecting and punishing crime, and in the additional 
value that would be given to labor by the reclamation of 
this vast mass of our fellow-creatures who are now not a 
help but a burden to the community, and who, sooner 
or later, in one form or other, come to be a tax upon the 
honest and sober portion of the community? But if 
this be not conceded, if there is anybody so absurd as to 
suppose that these United States cannot stand unless 
they can be backed up by revenue gained from the liquor 
traffic, then, dearly as I love this land, dearly as I love 
these United States, I would say, " Let them go " ; for 
there must be something radically and completely wrong 
about any great and magnificent community like this, if 
it cannot be maintained unless bolstered up by gains so 
vile and horrible as these. But some say, "There is no 
use of your talking in this way, the community will go 
on and drink as it has done in times past." That may be ; 
but we, at least, shall be clear in our consciences. We 
are not, however, so despairing about that matter as 



146 " / have Drunk my Last Glass." 

might at first sight be supposed. An immensity has 
been done already within the memory of living people. 
The tide of public opinion does not roll now as it rolled 
fifty years ago, when it was a necessary part of an honest 
man's hospitality to make his neighbor drunk, if he 
wanted to treat him well. We shall not despair of this 
Christianity of ours. There is a religious system, infi- 
nitely inferior to that which we profess, which has made 
and kept whole populations, not merely sober, but has 
kept them total abstainers for generations and centuries ; 
and I am not going to believe that what corrupt forms 
of thought, heathen forms, have succeeded in accom- 
plishing it will be impossible for our Christianity, when 
it is living, earnest, and baptized with the Holy Ghost, to 
accomplish among ourselves. 

Rev. John Hall, D.D. 



nj HAVE pKUNK MY T_AST pLASS. " 

No, comrades, I thank you, not any for me ; 
My last chain is riven — henceforward I'm free ! 
1 will go to my home and my children to-night, 
With no fumes of liquor their spirits to blight, 
And, with tears in my I eyes I will beg my poor wife 
To forgive me the wreck I have made of her life. 
"I have never refused you before 1" Let that pass; 

For I've drunk my last glass, boys, 

I have drunk my last glass ! 

Just look at me now, boys, in rags and disgrace, 
With my bleared, haggard eyes and my red, bloated 

face ! 
Mark my faltering step and my weak, palsied hand, 
And the mark on my brow that is worse than Cain's 

brand. 



" I have Drunk my Last Glass." 147 

See my crownless old hat, and my elbows and knees, 
Alike wanned by the sun or chilled by the breeze. 
Why. even the children will hoot as I pass ; 

But I've drunk my last glass, boys, 

I have drunk my last glass. 

You would hardly believe, boys, to look at me now, 
That a mother's soft hand was once pressed on my 

brow, 
When she kissed me and blessed me, her darling, her 

pride, 
Ere she lay down to rest by my dead father's side; 
But, with love in her eyes, she looked up to the sky, 
Bidding me to meet her there, and whispered, "Good- 

by." 
And I'll do it, God helping ! Your smile 1 let pass ; 
For I've drunk my last glass, boys, 
I have drunk my last glass. 

Ah ! I reeled home last night — it was not very late, 
For I'd spent my last sixpence, and landlords won't 

wait 
On a fellow who's left every cent in their till, 
And has pawned his last bed, their coffers to fill. 
Oh ! the torments I felt, and the pangs I endured ! 
And I begged for one glass—just one would have cured — 
But they kicked me out doors ! I let that, too, pass ; 

For I've drunk my last glass, boys, 

I have drunk my last glass. 

At home my pet Susie, with her golden hair, 

I saw through the window, just kneeling in prayer ; 

From her pale, bony hands her torn sleeves were 

strung down, 
While her feet, cold and bare, shrank beneath her 

scant gown ; 



148 Our Cause is Christ's Cause. 

And she prayed — prayed for bread, just a poor crust 

of bread, 
For one crust — on her knees my pet darling plead \ 
And I heard, with no penny to buy one, alas ! 

But I've drunk my last glass, boys, 

I have drunk my last glass. 

For Susie, my darling, my wee six-year-old, 
Though fainting with hunger and shivering with cold, 
There, on the bare floor, asked God to bless me! 
And she said, " Don't cry, mamma ! He will ; for you 

see 
I believe what I ask for !" Then sobered, I crept 
Away from the house ; and that night when I slept, 
Next my heart lay the Pledge ! You smile, let it 
pass ; 

For I've drunk my last glass, boys, 

I have drunk my last glass.. 

My darling child saved me ! Her faith and her love 

Are akin to my dear sainted mother's above! 

I will make her words true, or I'll die in the race, 

And sober I'll go to my last resting-place ; 

And she shall kneel there, and, weeping, thank God 

No drunkard lies under the daisy-strewn sod ! 

Not a drop more of poison my lips shall e'er pass; 

For I've drunk my last glass, boys, 

I have drunk my last glass. 

Louisa S, Upham. 



Our Cause is Christ's Pause. 

I advocate temperance because it is to me the legiti- 
mate application of the Gospel to the present necessity. 
There are many people who say to us that we teetotalers 



Our Cause is Christ's Cause. 149 

put temperance in the place of the Gospel. 1 fling back 
the accusation with indignation and scorn. We do not put 
l1 abstinence In the place of the Gospel; but we are 
abstainers because we are believers in the Gospel, and 
because we wish to apply the truth of the Gospel to this 
question. Take the beautiful parable of the good Samar- 
itan. What does it mean in regard to this matter of 
temperance? Come, now, my friend, let us reason to- 
gether. " Go thou and do likewise." What does that 
mean to-day ? Many people, when they come upon this 
command in the New Testament, imagine that it means 
simply that they must wait until they see a poor map in 
the precise circumstances in which that half-dead travel- 
ler was, and then they are to go and do for him precisely 
the same things as the good Samaritan did, and so they 
will be doing likewise. That is only a clumsy copy of 
the great example. That is not a real imitation of it. 
To get an imitation, you must go below, and lay hold of 
the principle ; and the question which you have to face 
to-day is, Where shall I find in society the person who is 
represented by this poor, half-dead traveller, and what 
for me shall correspond to the oil, the wine, and the 
money which his benefactor gave? Where shall I find 
him ? I find him in the little, homeless street newsboy, 
growing up to be a pest and a criminal in society. I open 
for him a lodging-house, I tend and care for him, teach 
him to save money, and lead him to the Lord Jesus 
Christ; and so I go and do likewise. I find him in the 
poor sickly inhabitant of your tenement-houses, and I 
try by all the means in my power to raise proper dwell- 
ings for the working-man ; and so I go and do likewise. 
1 find him in the poor, sinning, sorrowing sister standing 
by the street-corner, and I open for her a home of refuge ; 
and so I go and do likewise. I find him in the poor help- 
less drunkard, groaning under his misery, and feeling 
terribly the weight of his chain, and I stoop down to his 
level, and, taking him by the hand, say, Jf My brother, I 



150 Our Cause is Oirisfs Cause. 

will abstain along with you ; come, and I will try and 
raise thee up, by the help of God "; and so I go and do 
likewise. Will any one say that this is not a legitimate 
application of the principles of that parable, which are 
the principles underlying the whole Gospel of Christ? 

Then, again, we find Paul saying, " If meat make my 
brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world 
stands. It is good neither to eat flesh nor to drink wine, 
nor to do anything whereby thy brother stumbleth, or is 
offended, or is made weak." Lay those words along the 
line of the present circumstances, and tell me, can they 
mean anything, or can they point to anything, but to such 
a movement as this of total abstinence ? Let us, then, 
rejoice that we can advocate this cause beneath the cross 
of the Lord Jesus Christ. He who laid down his life for 
others says to us, " You must lay down your lives for the 
brethren." Yes, lives ! That would be a great thing. But 
it is not that we are asking to-night. We are only ask- 
ing that you lay down your glass. You may not find it 
to be a very great sacrifice after all ; but, if you make it 
for his sake, it will be a sacrifice well pleasing in his 
sight. And why should not we make it for his sake, if 
thereby we may raise a fellow-man ? You know the 
beautiful Old Testament story of King David, when, with 
one of those fits of home-sickness, as Dean Stanley calls 
them, which sometimes came over him, he longed vehe- 
mently for a draught of the water of Bethany, from which 
he drank in the shepherd days. Three of his chief cap- 
tains who heard his wish dashed through the thickest of 
the foe, went to the spring, and brought to him a vessel 
of water ; but he would not drink it. There were men's 
lives perilled for that beverage, and he poured it out be- 
fore the Lord. So, when ycu raise your wine-cup, will 
you think a moment of the multitudes of human lives 
that are being continually sacrificed by that beverage, and 
will you not, David-like, pour it out before the Lord? I 
raise this principle to one of the highest and most sacred 



A Teetotaler s Apology. 151 

importance — before the Lord -Inasmuch as ye do it for 
one of the least oi these his brethren, ye do it for him- 
self. Rev. Wm. M. Taylor. 



A Teetotaler's Apology. 

The glass you offer I, with thanks, decline. 
Thanks for your kindness. Neither ale, nor wine, 
Nor fiery spirit I'll accept from thee, 
As proof of cordial hospitality, 
I value not the less your generous mind, 
And, lest you think me churlish or unkind, 
Will give the reason ; and am certain you 
Must then approve the act, and reason too. 

I dare not taste; there's danger in the drink! 
To me it seems like standing on the brink 
Of that dark precipice where thousands fell, 
Whose fearful histories I have studied well — 
Men of repute for genius, education, 
Religious teachers, rulers of the nation. 
These stood as firm as we stand in our day, 
And yet they lost their balance. Who can say 
But we, like those whose ruin we thus see, 
From the same cause may find like misery. 

Do I mistrust myself? you ask. I do ! 
And yet I know myself as strong as you 
In mind and will, my self-respect as high; 
And I am sure this fact you'll not deny — 
That it requires much firmness to withstand 
That which is offered by your liberal hand. 
It proves not mental weakness that I've signed 
The temperance pledge. It needs a constant mind 
To resist temptation from the friend we prize ; 
Not friendship's offering can a friend despise. 



152 The Natural Beverage. 

And here the pledge a shield is, a defence 
To resist temptation. For on what pretence 
Can a true friend, then,, urge that thing on me 
Which compromises honor? 

Thus, you see, 
The temperance pledge gives power to self-denia^ 
And strength for conflict in the day of trial ; 
From custom's thraldom it thus set me free : 
This, then, to you is my apology. 



T 



he Natural Beverage. 



There can be no good excuse for the habit of using 
intoxicating drinks. Neither fermented nor distilled 
liquors will quench thirst. Tipplers and topers take a 
sup of water after swallowing a glass of whiskey^ Alco- 
hol will not quench thirst, for it adds fuel to the fire. 
Water is the natural beverage of all living things, and we 
have a great abundance of it. It comes from the clouds 
in silver showers ; it unwinds from the fountain like 
threads from a spool ; it rolls in brooks and rivers at our 
feet ; it spreads in lakes which lie like molten mirrors in 
vales of emerald grass and golden flowers. The flower 
holds its fragrant vase in green arms to catch it, and 
stoops from the bank to kiss the wave which flows at its 
feet. The bird dips its bill in a drop of rain or dew, and 
then lifts its little head, as though it returned thanks for 
the blessing. The deer and the iamb, the ox and the 
horse, and all living creatures whose taste has not been 
spoiled, drink water. It will quench thirst, and light no 
fever in the throat. It will do no harm to the body, to 
the mind, nor to the heart, nor to the soul. It is given 
to us pure and without color, so that we can see and 
taste the impurities, if any have been mixed with it. 
Now, my friends, let us all join the cold-water army, and 



The Seven Ages of Intemperance. 153 

sign the cold-water pledge, that our breath maybe sweet 
as the breath of flowers, our voices as clear as the voices 
of the birds, and our lives as pure as the dew and the 
rain. 



The Seven Ages of Intemperance. 

All the world's a bar-room 

And all the men and women merely tipplers ; 

They have their bottles and their glasses ; 

And one man in his turn takes many quarts, 

His drink being seven kinds. At first the infant, 

Taking the cordial in the nurse's arms. 

And then the whining school boy with his drop 

Or two of porter, just to make him creep 

More willingly to school. And then the lover, 

Sighing like a furnace o'er his lemonade, 

Brewed in whiskey punch. Then a soldier, 

Full of strange oaths, and reeling with brandy, 

Brutal and beastly, sudden and quick in quarrels, 

Seeking the fiend Intemperance, 

E'en in the gallows' mouth. And then the justice, 

In fair, round belly with madeira lined, 

Most elegantly drunk, superbly corned ; 

Full of wise saws against the use of gin, 

And so he swallows wine. The sixth age 

Shifts into the dull and bloated rum-drinker; 

A spectacle his nose, he's scorched inside; 

The wretch's ragged hose a world too wide 

For his shrunk limbs ; and his once manly hand, 

Shaking the cup of tea, well braced with rum, 

Seems now five palsied bones. Last drink of all, 

That ends intoxication's history, 

Is laudanum, self-murder, long oblivion, 

Sans faith, sans hope, sans life, sans everything. 



154 Old Rye makes a Speech — The Curse of Alcohol. 



Pld ft 



YE MAKES A SPEECH, 



I WAS made to be eaten, 

And not to be drank; 
To be thrashed in a barn, 

Not soaked in a tank. 
I come a as blessing 

When put through a mill ; 
As a blight and a curse 

When run through a stilL 
Make me up into loaves, 

And your children are fed; 
But if into a drink, 

I will starve them instead. 
In bread I'm a servant, 

The eater shall rule ; 
In drink I am master, 

The drinker a fool. 
Then remember the warning, 

My strength I'll employ: 
If eaten, to strengthen ; 

If drank, to destroy. 

Edward Carswell. 



The Curse of ^lcohol, 

God made man in his own image, in the image of God 
created he him. Who, with impious and polluting hand, 
defaces the image and superscription of his Maker, and 
stamps him with the counterfeiting die of the evil one? 
Alcohol ! Man by nature walks erect — lifts his forehead 
to the stars ; power and dominion have been given to him 
over all the creatures of the earth— he is nature's king. 



The Curse of Alcohol. 155 

Who is it that breaks his sceptre of authority, takes 
from Aim his imperial crown, and degrades him below 
the b/ute? Alcohol! Win; destroys his reason, hides 
tier bright beams in mystic clouds that roll around the 
shattered temple o( the soul, curtained in midnight? 
Alcohol ! Who pollutes his heart, and robs it of every 
noble and generous emotion? Alcohol ! Who makes him 
a madman, and then lashes and halloes on the mad pack 
of his vilest passions? Who fills our jails with felons, 
and hangs the trembling wretch on the gallows? Alco- 
hol ! Who crowds our almshouses with paupers, our 
hospitals with disease, and our graveyards with dead ? 
Alcohol ! 

Do any of you want to be a fool — nay, worse, become 
the jibe and derision of fools? Let him drink liquor. 
Do any of you (I care not how proud and virtuous you 
are) — do any of you want to be a rascal, with a hang-gal- 
lows look, or become a low, vulgar vagabond? Drink 
liquor! 

If you are a father, do you want to see your children 
ragged and ignorant, growing young candidates for the 
penitentiary and gallows? Drink liquor! If } t ou are a 
son, and you want to pay with black ingratitude the debt 
you owe your parents, and bring down their revered 
gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, drink liquor! If 
you are a husband, and want to steal all the beauty from 
your wife's face, make her wretched and supremely mis- 
erable, drink liquor ! Do any of you want to lose the 
property you have gathered together by the sweat of 
your brow, as a home for your wife and little ones, and a 
retreat in old age ? If so, drink liquor! If 3 r ou want to pay 
a high premium for being poisoned, drink liquor ! If you 
want to bid an eternal farewell to your freedom, and be a 
greater slave than was ever lashed at night to his dungeon, 
drink liquor! If you want to exchange a healthy body, 
so " fearfully, wonderfully made," for a disease-cursed 
frame that a demon would scorn to inhabit and the devil 



1 56 Seventy-six and Now. 

quit in disgust, drink liquor ! If you want to blast with 
disease your body from head to heel r sweep every line 
where manly beauty lingers, and early heap the clay 
upon a foul mass of corruption more disgusting than the 
leprosy of Naaman, driiik liquor ! If you want to go to 
the grave "unhonored and unsung/' and let infamy there 
spread its sable plumes, and fling its blackness o'er a 
drunkards tomb, drink body-blighting, spirit-blasting 

LIQUOR J 



r 



EVENTY-SIX AND NoW. 



Our sires were rocked in Faneuil Hall, 

The famous cradle of the free ; 
And shall we hear our brothers call 

For help, and never heed the plea? 
We heap the granite to the skies, 

Over the graves on Bunker's Hill ; 
But if the heroes there could rise, 

While Rum is king, would they be still I 

They would again renew their vows, 

To wipe away a nation's stain ; 
And Warren's thrilling voice would rouse 

The iron will of mighty men. 
They would relight their beacon-fires 

On old Wachusett's naked brow, 
And clang the bells in all their spires, 

And sow their votes like storms of snow ! 

Where are the sons of sires who cast 
The taxed tea-chests in the sea? 

Where is the spirit of the past 

That moved the deep of sympathy? 



Seventy-six and Now* 157 

Would not intemperance have been driven 

From us, like a loathsome curse, 
If, when our fathers went to heaven, 

Their mantles had been worn by us? 

Descendants of the good old stock, 

By all the free blood in your veins, 
By all the prayers at Plymouth Rock, 

Strike off the drunkard's galling chains! 
By all the blood your fathers shed, 

By all the laurels they have won, 
Stand up for Temperance, as they did 

For Liberty at Lexington ! 

Strike out the statutes which disgrace 

Our land before a wondering world ! 
Enact a law to lift the race ! 

Let vice into its gulf be hurled ! 
Strike for the glory of our land ! 

Strike for the victims bound in chains! 
Strike when the heart beats to the hand ! 

Strike for -the cause the foe disdains ! 

Go bravely to the ballot-box, 

And cast a freeman's honest vote ; 
Be never, like the stupid ox, 

Led by the halter at the throat. 
Trust not the men who did betray 

Our cause for office, power, or gold ; 
The promises they make to-day 

They'll break to-morrow, as of old. 

Men who make politics a trade, 

Will stoop to-day to tie your shoes ; 

To-morrow, your cause will be betrayed 
And crucified by bitter foes; 



158 Indictment of the Traffic. 

They'll sell it ere the morning dawns, 

And nail it to the cursed tree, 
Robe it with scorn, crown it with thorns, 

And make of it a mockery. 

Geo. W. Bungay. 



Jndictment of the Traffic. 

If there be any greater public evil in the land than 
intemperance, I challenge you to name the monster. 
Rebellion and treason a lew years gone by called for 
hecatombs of fathers and sons as a sacrifice to the mad 
ambition of a few men. The victims fell by the thou- 
sands. Call the roll of the 300,000 loyal dead, bury them 
with all honors, write epitaphs, pronounce eulogies, keep 
green the grass over their heads. They fell in a noble 
cause. Their dust let all the people honor. But these — 
the poor, besotted, bloated victims of the liquor traffic ; 
these who have been despoiled of manhood, who have 
died in the gutters of the street or in the chambers of 
wealth ; these who have been made to reek with filth 
and blasphemy and shame ; these in whose bosoms and 
in whose homes a hell of woes has been set up — count 
their number. Call the roll of them — call on, you have 
never done. The list is swelling daily. While you sit 
here, it is swelling over yonder, and yonder, and yonder — 
everywhere. This rebellion and treason against human 
welfare and the general good comes to no end. This war 
on the lives and souls of men never ceases. They who 
feed this fire of death are responsible for the flame. The 
whole traffic is responsible, for the constant tendency 
and effort of the entire system is to produce all these 
dire evils. There is nothing counteractive about it. 
From top to bottom it is temptation, seduction incar- 
nate. Gilded saloons, fancy drinks, grand accommoda- 



Indictment of tlic Traffic. 1 59 

tions, the social glass, affable venders, down through the 
long chain of agencies, down to the lowest sinks and 
slums of a great city, all ol it from top to bottom is one 
grand piece of Satanic temptation, to unsteady a man's 
good resolution, to pull him off the throne of self con- 
trol, to unman him, to set on fire his passions. From 
top to bottom the traffic entices the young, holds fast 
the middle-aged, and, like a vampire, continues to suck 
the old man's blood so long as he can beg or borrow a 
penny. The top may get the best blood, the bottom the 
worst, but the work is one, from the fair beginning to 
the foul ending. It is a system organized and com- 
pacted for human debasement and ruin. It spreads its 
net-work of death everywhere. It links itself with 
every amusement, making even the decent dangerous. 
It hangs about the skirts of all lawful business. It 
tempts incessantly. It pauses at no expense, for we 
ourselves pay all its expenses. 

My indictment of this monster evil is not half com- 
pleted. I indict it in the name of all lands and all peo- 
ple, in behalf of all trades and professions, in the name 
of literature, art, and science, of whom it has ever been 
the foe. I indict it in behalf of men frozen, men stab- 
bed, men beaten with clubs, men stupefied and burned 
in fires, men crushed upon railways, men torn by machin- 
ery, men eaten to death by its fever, men crowning 
their life-long misery by suicide. I indict it in the name 
of helpless griefs, of penniless women and beggared 
children, of wives who have met a thousand deaths 
through blasted hopes, agonies of years, ceaseless mor- 
tifications. I indict it in the name of religion and in the 
name of that God who declares a woe to him that put- 
teth the bottle to his neighbor to drink, and who says 
no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of heaven. I 
indict it as a public muisance and a moral pestilence. 
And I seem to hear that voice which cursed the old ser- 
pent in Eden, speaking again to this demon of modern 



160 Belshazzar s Feast. 

days, " Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed 
above all cattle and every beast of the field ; upon thy 
belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days 
of thy life." It is idle to deny this responsibility. We 
array the figures. We show the scars and terrible 
wounds. We point to the dead, and society may rise, 
and with a just indignation say to the liquor traffic: 
" Because thou hast done this." 

I summon all the moral reformers and religious 
teachers of the race, and they all plead against it as the 
inveterate and deadly foe of all good morals and religion. 
They point us to men renowned for intellectual magnifi- 
cence, who by it were degraded to the stupidity and 
loathsomeness of sots. Every year for generations the 
state, the ranks of literature, the legal and the medical 
professions, and the pulpit, have been despoiled of some 
of their brightest ornaments by this demon. Brilliant 
lawyers, lofty statesmen, the finest geniuses, distinguished 
preachers — no one stands too high, no character is too 
sacred or too pure, to be seized and degraded by this 
foe of the race. 



Belshazzar's Feast. 



The king was revelling 'mid his glittering shrines 

His golden goblets had been emptied thrice, 
And wasted nectar trickled down in lines 

Upon the table, where he flung his dice. 
And great Belshazzar tottered from his throne 

With the intoxication of a king, 
And danced before his images of stone, 

And smiled to hear the giddy courtiers sing 
Their wanton glee in wild, voluptuous tone. 



Belshazzar' s Feast. 161 

A thousand lords were feasting in that hall, 

And peerless women sat on every side, 
And golden censers swung along the wall, 

And lofty mirrors gleamed with regal pride; 
And cups were brought — the sacred cups of old — ■ 

Robbed from the holy Temple of the Lord ; 
And great Belshazzar drank from one ot gold, 

And bade his nobles mock with lance and sword, 
And qualf with pride and profanation bold. 



The lords polluted with their vicious hands 

The sacred cups, and boasted of their power, 
And offered incense to their idol bands — 

Alas ! for them. It was an evil hour, 
For suddenly appeared before them all 

An apparition, chilling with affright — 
A livid hand loomed out above the ball, 

The chandeliers ceased shedding forth their light, 
And high that hand wrote fire upon the wall. 



Aghast, Belshazzar called soothsayers in 

To tell the meaning of that living line — 
Oh! "MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN:' 

Woe to Chaldea — these are words divine ; 
Hut they knew not the mystery which they read, 

And sent for Daniel to interpret it. 
"Thou art found wanting, king," the prophet said, 

"Thy mighty sceptre hath Jehovah split; 
A Mede shall rule this night when thou art dead." 



But great Belshazzar sought again his wine, 
And, though he shook before the holy seer, 

Still rolled upon his purple couch supine, 

And drank the more to quench his guilty fear. 



1 62 A Teetotaler— Why? 

That night, while giddy pleasure held her reign, 
A Persian foe stood at the monarch's gate ; 

Their host turned broad Euphrates from her lane, 
The sword of Cyrus sealed Chaldea's fate, 

And ere the morn was great Belshazzar slain. 

Edwin Pococke. 



A Teetotaler — Why ? 

Why am I a teetotaler? you ask, and I reply, 

If any one should be so, why also should not I ? 

If duty sounds her call, should I not eager be, 

A soldier of the right, to prove my loyalty? 

If there be good to get, more good may be my share; 

If there be good to give, to give should be my care. 

I know the evil wrought — nay, not a soul on earth 

Knows half the sin and woe to which strong drink 

gives birth. 
If that dark woe and sin can by my help be made 
Oi all its sable hues to lose the smallest shade; 
Or if my word and deed may shelter some, 
By blessing of our God, from darker doom to come, 
I spurn all thought of taste and fashion's coaxing plea, 
And as a firm teetotaler I proudly mean to be. 
If I touch not strong drink, no stain is on my soul 
From bloodshed or foul crime caused by the toxic 

bowl ; 
This root of thousand plagues I nothing do to nurse, 
But try my best to rid the world from this great curse. 
Oh ! sweetest comfort this. And then my prayer can 

fly 
Unweighted and unchecked beyond the sky, 
That snares may be removed, temptations cease to 

slay, 
Man's crudest betrayers for ever speed away, 



The True Remedy. 163 

And Christ's own kingdom come in glory and in might, 
The joy of highest heaven, and earth's supreme de- 

light 
Why am I a teetotaler? you ask, and I reply, 
/';;/ honest man ana" patriot, and Christian; that is why. 
And, questioners, if you the answer will pursue, 
What I for long have done, you will begin to do ! 

Rev. D. Burns, A.M. 



The True Remedy. 



With this gigantic evil confronting us, the question 
which presses upon every Christian conscience is this: 
What is the remedy? How are we to meet it? Now, 
we think that we have got the very best remedy, the 
sure and only remedy, in total abstinence. There are 
some things about that which I would like to say, albeit 
they may be very simple and elementary, yet it is some- 
times very beneficial to go down to first principles. 
This abstinence is dangerous to none ; it will injure no 
one's health ; it is safe for all ; it is expedient, too, for all. 
If there be two courses of conduct, one of which is 
attended with danger, and the other attended with none, 
prudence says that the safe course ought to be taken 
and the dangerous one avoided. But this argument, ap- 
plied to the case in hand, will lead directly to abstinence. 
There is moderation, so-called ; and there is abstinence. 
There is danger in the one, but there is none in the 
other; therefore the course of abstinence ought to be 
pursued. The only way in which you can meet that 
argument is to say that there is no danger in moderation ; 
but who is there that will take such a stand as that in 
the face of the facts which are staring at us from every 
street-corner. No danger in the moderate use of intoxi- 



164 The True Remedy. 

eating liquor! Why, how many who have begun in 
moderation have ended in helpless intemperance ! And 
how is the danger in these days increased by the injuri- 
ous and pernicious customs which prevail in social life ! 
How many who began in manhood, hopeful and appar- 
ently well, have been ensnared by those terrible cus- 
toms, and are now, to all human appearance, entirely 
ruined ! And that which has been with them may be 
with us also. " Let him that thinketh he standeth take 
heed lest he fall." 

This cause of abstinence is necessary for the drunkard. 
I agree thoroughly with all that has been said already 
in declaring intemperance a crime ; but wherever it has 
become a habit with a man, it is also a physical disease, 
so that we must look at that side of the matter too, and 
attempt to grapple with it. He Avho continually indulges 
in strong drink till he acquires the habit of drunkenness 
becomes physically diseased, so that his stomach is 
affected by the least drop of alcohol that enters into it, 
and becomes inflamed with the desire for more. Hence, 
for the drunkard, abstinence is his only hope. But this 
being so, we immediately make our appeal to others, and 
say, "Are you going to let him abstain alone ? " There 
are many men who would rather go down into a drunk- 
ard's grave than be pointed at and have it said regarding 
them that they needed to be abstainers in order to save 
themselves from intemperance. How can we prevent 
them from feeling this humiliation ? Only by those of 
us who have never lain under any imputation of intem- 
perance taking our stand beside them, and saying : "We 
will support you in the position which you take, and 
who accus or attacks )^ou accuses or attacks us." 
There is sympathy in this, and it is the power of sympa- 
thy which most touches the heart for cure. The gen- 
eral has most power with his troops when, putting him- 
self at their head, he says, " Come, follow me " ; and we 
shall have most power with the drunkard when we put 



The Wreckers. 165 

ourselves beside him, and say, "Two are better than one, 
for, it" one fall, his neighbor can help him up." 

Rev. Wm. M. Taylor. 



JHE Jf 



RECKERS, 



Hark ! to the roar of the surges, 
Hark ! to the wild winds' howl ; 
See the black cloud that the hurricane urges 
Bend like a maniac's scowl ! 
Full on the sunken lee ledges 
Laps the devoted bark ; 
And the loud waves, like a hundred sledges, 
Smite to the doomed mark ! 



Shrilly the shriek of the seaman 
Cleaves like a dart through the roar; 
Harsh as the pitiless laugh of a demon 
Rattles the pebbled shore. 
Ho ! for the life-boat, brothers ; 
Now may the hearts of the brave, 
Hurling their lives to the rescue of others, 
Conquer the stormy wave. 



Shame for humanity's treason ! 
Shame for the form we wear ! 
Blush at the temple of pity and reason 
Turned to a robber's lair! 
Worse than the horrible breakers, 
Worse than the shattering storm, 
See the rough-handed, remorseless wreckers 
Stripping the clay yet warm. 



1 66 The Wreckers. 

Plucking at girlhood's tresses. 
Tangled with gems and gold ; 
Snatching love-tokens from manhood's caresses, 
Clenched with a dying hold. 
What of the shrieks of despairing? 
What of the last faint gasp? 
Robbers, who lived would but lessen your sharing: 
Gold — 'twas a god in your grasp! 



Boys in their sunny brown beauty, 
Men in their rugged bronze, 
Women whose wail might have taught wolves a duty, 
Dead on the merciless stones. 
Tenderly slid o'er the plundered 

Shrouds from the white-capped surge ; 
Loud on the traitors the mad ocean thundered — 
Low o'er the lost sans: a dirge. 



Wo ! there are deadlier breakers, 
Billows that burn as they roll ! 
Flanked by a legion of crueler wreckers — 
Wreckers of body and soul ; 
Traitors to God and humanity, 
Circes that hold in their arms 
Blood-dripping murder and hopeless insanity, 
Folly and famine by turns. 



Crested with wine redly flashing, 
Swollen with liquid fire, 
How the strong ruin comes fearfully dashing, 
High as the soul walks, and higher! 
Virtue, and manhood, and beauty, 
Hope and the sunny-haired bliss, 
With the diviner white angel of duty, 
Sink in the burning abyss, 



Woman s Work. 167 

What if the soul of the drunkard 
Shrivel in quenchless flame ? 
What though his children, by beggary conquered, 
Plunge into ruin and shame ? 
Gold has come in to the wreckers, 
Murder has taken his prize ; 
Gold, though a million hearts burst on the breakers, 
Smothers the crime and the cries ! 

C. C. Burleigh. 



Woman's Work. 



Women, there are some things that you can do, and 
this is one : you can make drinking unpopular and dis- 
graceful among the young. You can utterly discoun- 
tenance all drinking in your own house, and you can 
hold in suspicion every young man who touches the 
cup. You know that no young man who drinks can 
safely be trusted with the happiness of any woman, and 
that he is as unfit as a man can be for a woman's so- 
ciety. Have this understood — that every young man 
who drinks is socially proscribed. Bring up your chil- 
dren to regard drinking as not only dangerous, but dis- 
graceful. Place temptation in no man's way. If men 
will make beasts of themselves, let them do it in other 
society than yours. Recognize the living terrible fact 
that wine has always been, and is to-day, the curse 
of your sex; that it steals the hearts of men away from 
you, that it dries up your prosperity, that it endangers 
your safety, that it can only bring you evil. If social cus- 
tom compels you to present wine at your feasts, rebel 
against it, and make a social custom in the interests of 
virtue and purity. The matter is very much in your own 
hands. The women of the country, in what is called po- 
lite society, can do more to make the nation temperate 



1 68 A Boast of King Bacchus. 

than all the legislators and tumultuous reformers that 
are struggling and blundering in their efforts to this 
end. 



A Boast of King Bacchus. 

I AM a mighty king, second to none ! 
Men bow before me, acknowledge me lord ! 
I am a mighty king; thousands I sway, 
Laugh at their folly, plunge them in Hades; 
Mine are the purple grapes; mine the hot juice; 
Mine are the sunny slopes laden with vines ; 
Mine are the orchards, with juicy fruits rich ; 
Mine are the hop-grounds; they are my power; 
Mine are the barley-fields, waving with grain. 
I am a mighty king, second to none ; 
Men bow before me, acknowledge me lord ! 
I am their master ; I lay them low, 
Wither their manhood, deep plunge them in Hades. 
Mine is the ivy crown, glossy and green ; 
Mine is the golden cup, brimming with wine; 
Mine is the crimson flood, fiery and hot ; 
I in it plunge my slaves, drown them in wine, 
Laugh at their folly, consign them to Hades ! 
Mine is the scarlet cloak, mine the wild goat; 
Mine is the stormy heart — tears never melt it; 
Mine is the stern will — man bows before it. 
For I am a great king; thousands I sway; 
The earth is my throne, souls are my prey. 
Kings fall before me, empires I rend; 
Home-ties I sever, gray hairs bow to death. 
I reason scorn; mockingly pledge him: 
He is my foe ; I do not fear him ! 
Mock his wise sermons, point to my prey ! 
I quaff the red wine ; my heart it grows bold. 



A Boast of King Bacchus. 169 

I wildly rev< 1 ; smi >w, 

Whisper, M 1 slew > hurled him ! 

His soul I destroyed!" laugh at her tears. 

For 1 am a great king, second to none! 

Men bow before me ; they are my slaves ! 

I the wife's fairest hopes mock and destroy; 

Point to my slave; whisper, "He's mine!" 

Vain are his efforts ; I crush her through him I 

I to the grave doom her, laugh as she dies ! 

I fill the wine-cup; drink to my triumph! 

For man is my slave ; I am his master. 

I make the old mother's tears to flow ; 

Laugh at her anguish ; show her her boy — 

In mad revel show him; show him in death! 

I mock the father's woe: "Is this thy boy?" 

Give him the wine-cup, drug him for Hades, 

Laugh as he wildly raves, mock him with hope. 

He cursing dies; I in triumph laugh! 

I make the orphans, I to death give them ; 

I in sin rear them, in darkest shades hurl them! 

I am a mighty king; man is my slave! 

Men bow before me, drink to their master. 

They seize the brimming bowl— gladly I give! 

Man is my slave ; he bows before me, 

Prays for my favors, lives for my gifts. 

Him I befriend, with my heel on his neck ; 

Low in dust hold; give him the wine-cup! 

He my hand kisses ; grovels before me ; 

I in my grasp hold him — he cannot fly ! 

I into shades of darkest night hurl him, 

Kill him with steel, drown him in ocean, 

Bid him strike boldly home, bid him be brave ; 

For I am his master, he is my slave. 



I jo Opposite Examples, 



Opposite Examples. 

I ASK the young man who is just forming his to aits 
of life, or just beginning to indulge those habitual trains 
of thought out of which habits grow, to look round him, 
and mark the examples whose fortune he would covet or 
whose fate he would abhor. Even as we walk the streets 
we meet with exhibitions of each extreme. Here behold 
a patriarch whose stock of vigor three- score ) T ears and 
ten seem hardly to have impaired. His erect form, his 
firm step, his elastic limbs, and tin dimmed senses are so 
many certificates of good conduct. His fair complexion 
shows that his blood has never been corrupted ; his pure 
breath, that he has never yielded his digestive apparatus 
to abuse ;' his exact language and keen apprehension, 
that his brain has never been drugged or stupefied by 
the poisons of distiller or tobacconist. Enjoying his ap- 
petites to the highest, he has preserved the power of en- 
joying them. As he drains the cup of life, there are no 
lees at the bottom. His organs will reach the goal of 
existence together. Painlessly as a candle burns down 
in its socket, so will he expire. 

But look at an opposite extreme, where an opposite 
history is recorded. What wreck so shocking to behold 
as the wreck of a dissolute man ; the vigor of life ex- 
hausted, and yet the first steps in an honorable career 
not taken ; in himself a lazar-house of disease ; dead, but, 
by a heathenish custom of society, not buried I Rogues 
have had the initial letter of their title burnt into the 
palms of their hands, even for murder. Cain was only 
branded on the forehead ; but over the whole person of 
the debauchee or the inebriate the signatures of infamy 
are written. How nature brands him with stigma and 
opprobrium f How she hangs labels all over him, to tes- 
tify her disgust at his existence., and to admonish others 



Men Wanted. 171 

to beware of his example ! How she loosens all his joints, 
Bends tremors along his muscles, and bends forward his 
frame, as if to bring him upon all fours with kindred 
brutes, or to degrade him to the reptiles crawling ! How 
she disfigures his countenance, as if intent upon obliter- 
ating all traces of her own image, so that she may swear 
she never made him ! How she pours rheum over his 
eyes, sends foul spirits to inhabit his breath, and shrieks 
as with a trumpet, from every pore of his body, ''Behold 
a beast! 91 Such a man may be seen in the streets of our 
cities every day ; if rich enough, he may be found in the 
saloons and at the tables of the " upper ten " ; but surely 
to every man of purity and honor, to every man whose 
wisdom as well as whose heart is unblemished, the wretch 
who comes cropped and bleeding from the pillory, and 
redolent with its appropriate perfumes, would be a guest 
or a companion far less offensive and disgusting. 

Now let the young man, rejoicing in his manly propor- 
tions and in his comeliness, look on this picture, and on 
this, and then say after the likeness of which he intends 
his own erect stature and sublime countenance shall be 
configured. 

Horace Mann. 



Men Wanted. 



The world wants men — large-hearted, manly men ; 

Men who shall join its chorus, and prolong 

The psalm of labor and the psalm of love. 

The times want scholars — scholars who shall shape 

The doubtful destinies of dubious years, 

And land the ark that bears our country's good 

Safe on some peaceful Ararat at last. 

The age wants heroes — heroes who shall dare 

To struggle in the solid ranks of truth; 



172 License or no License ? 

To clutch the monster error by the throat; 

To bear opinion to a loftier seat; 

To blot the era of oppression out, 

And lead a universal freedom in. 

And heaven wants souls — fresh and capacious souls ; 

To taste its raptures, and expand, like flowers, 

Beneath the glory of its central sun. 

It wants fresh souls — not lean and shrivelled ones ; 

It wants fresh souls. My brother, give it thine. 

If thou indeed wilt be what scholars should ; 

If thou wilt be a hero, and wilt strive 

To help thy fellow and exalt thyself, 

Thy feet, at last, shall stand on jasper floors ; 

Thy heart, at last, shall seem a thousand hearts — 

Each single heart with myriad raptures filled — 

While thou shalt sit with princes and with kings, 

Rich in the jewel of a ransomed soul. 



License or no License? u That's the 
Question." 

The question rises to a people's eye, 

Shall we still wear the tyrant's galling chain, 

Obey a demon that shall crush our souls ? 

Shall this proud land still wear the garb of vice ? 

Shall guilt be legalized, and exiled peace? 

Shall men be brutalized, and fond hearts crushed ? 

Shall wisdom stride insulted from our arms ? 

Shall virtue look m pity and contempt 

Upon the creatures who have spurned her boons ? 

Shall poison be the traffic of our day ? 

Shall health and life be sacrificed to vice ? 

Shall homes be rendered desolate and sad ? 

Shall doting spirits see their idols slain? 



License or no License ? 



m 



The fair hopes of a lifetime crushed in shame, 

The pride of youth laid low within the grave — 

Shall this he so? Shall that strong- shield, the law, 

Be made the instrument of such a work ? 

Forbid it, citizens ! Your own proud rights 

Command the wielding of that privilege 

To drive the demon from your very hearth, 

To strip him of his fangs, and bid him die ! 

Tis yours to rescue now your fellow-men 

From death — the worst he may endure or know — 

The double death of body and of soul ! 

And 'tis within your midst — 'tis no wild dream, 

No phantom of the fancy that we paint! 

Our youth have tasted, and, by wine beguiled, 

Have wandered down the path of guilt and vice, 

Till e'en the gray hairs of their sires have bowed 

Beneath the weight of their own children's sin ! 

The fairest of our noble land have sunk 

Beneath the simoon that hath swept it o'er! 

It cometh like a thief, yet, in its strength. 

'Tis as destruction's besom all aroused ! 

Spirits of gentle and sweet purity 

Have shrunk and withered 'neath its blighting touch ; 

Young hearts have seen their dear ones stricken down. 

Have felt their all of happiness decay, 

Scathed by this demon's blow ! 

Fame's laurel wreath 
Hath lost its bloom, and fallen from the brow 
Of many a soul whose manly efforts there 
Had wasted life's bright energies to win 
That very wreath, which now they careless spurn ! 
All this hath this vile monster done, and more ! 
He hath robbed infants in their helplessness 
Of childhood's only stay ! He hath deprived 
The feebler mother of her every power ; 
Hath stolen from her bosom's shrine that heart 
For which she would have sacrificed her all ! 



174 The Pledge ! the Pledge J 

He hath torn down the barrier between 

The brute creation and God's image, man ! 

Hath laid the soul immortal in the dust, 

And taught it longings grovelling as the swine! 

Hath quenched ambition's spirit-stirring flame — 

Hath driven from out the inmost soul the life 

That savored full of immortality ! 

Hath hastened to the victim's couch the form 

Of its grim sister, Death ! 

Hath rent the soul 
Till e'en the heart-strings quiver, while fair hope 
Hath fled, unwilling exile, from its shrine! 
This have we seen, and in our very midst — 
Beside the hearth-stones sacred to our souls, 
Among the loved ones cherished proudly there ! 
And when the weapon's placed within our hand 
Shall we not ward the monster's blow, and strive 
To rid our altars of its blasting breath ? 
Oh ! let this people's mighty voice reply, 
" The victory shall be ours — We will be free !" 

Temperance Vindicator. 



The Pledge ! the Pledge ! 

Givetis the pledge! Why do you object ? Is it because 
you love the stimulus — the alcohol ! Then you are in 
danger, and for your own sake you ought to sign it. No 
man can have a fondness for the excitement or the 
stimulus of alcoholic drinks without being in danger 
of becoming a drunkard. Do you feel at certain regu- 
lar times a periodical craving for " a drink," whether 
before breakfast, at eleven o'clock, or just before 
dinner? If you do, beware! you are in great danger! 
Tis an appetite "that grows by what it feeds on." Do 



The Pledge I the Pledge / 175 

you feel that "you want bracing"? Then bewarel The 
stomach of no healthy man wants " bracing," and if you 

resort to drink for that purpose, be sure that you have 

drunk too often and too much. It is drinking — unna- 
tural, unwholesome, alcoholic drinking — w h ich cau se S that 
morbid state of the nerves and the stomach that makes 
you feel that " aching void." It is the best possible evi- 
dence that you have gone too far, and that you must 
stop short or be ruined. 

But again we say, Give us the pledge! Do you say, 
44 I am a perfectly sober man, and never drink, and 
therefoie do not require the aid of the pledge"? Be it 
so. But are you not a husband or a father; a sonora 
brother, an uncle or a nephew; a relative or a friend 
even? Are you not a man? Are you not a member of 
society? Are you totally isolated in the world? Is 
your example of no value whatever? Are you so totally 
insignificant that you are of no consequence whatever 
in society? It is not and it cannot be so. No man is 
so utterly wretched and valueless. Suppose you have a 
son who is in danger of falling; suppose that he does 
fall ; and in reply to your lamentations or reproaches 
he should say, " Father, I would have signed the pledge, 
and I would have kept it, had you set me the example ; 
but you declined it ; I but follow your example, and you 
must share the responsibilit)^." Would not your mouth 
be shut? Would not those words sear your heart as 
with a hot iron ? 

Again we say, Sign the pledge, and you will have done 
your duty, and that duty is not performed until you have 
done it. 



176 How Jamie came Home. 



How Jamie came Home. 

Come, mother,, set the kettle on, 

And put the ham and eggs to fry — 
Something to eat, 
And make it neat, 
To please our Jamie's mouth and eye; 
For Jamie is our only son, you know — 
The rest have perished long ago ! 
He's coming from the wars to-night, 
And his blue eyes will sparkle bright, 
And his old smile will play right free,. 
His old,, loved home again to see. 

I say for *t ! 'twas a cur'us thing 
That Jamie was not maimed or killed ! 
Five were the years, 
With hopes, and fears, 
And gloomy, hopeless tidings filled; 
And many a night, the past five years, 
We've lain within our cottage here, 
And, while the rain-storm came and went. 
We've thought of Jamie in his tent, 
And offered many a silent prayer, 
That God would keep him in his care. 

I say for 't I 'twas, a cur'us thing 
That Jamie was not maimed or killed ! 
Five were the years, 
With blood and tears, 
With cruel, bloody battles filled; 
And many a morn, the past five years, 
We've knelt around our fireside here, 
And while we thought of bleeding ones, 
Our blazing towns and smoking guns, 
We've thought of him, and breathed a prayer 
That God would keep him in his care* 



Hozu Jamie came Home, 177 

And he shall tell us of his fights, 
His marches, skirmishes, and all ; 

Many a tale 

Will make us pale, 
And pity those who had to fall ; 
And many a tale of sportive style 
Will go, perhaps, to make us smile ; 
And when his stories all are done, 
And when the evening well has gone, 
We'll kneel around the hearth once more, 
And thank the Lord the war is o'er. 



Hark ! there's a sound ! he's coming now ; 
Hark ! mother ! there's the sound once more ; 

Now on our feet, 

With smiles to greet, 
We'll meet him at the opening door ! 
It is a heavy step and tone — 
Too heavy, far, for one alone ; 
Perhaps the company extends 
To some of his old army friends ; 
And who they be, and whence they came, 
Of course we'll welcome them the same. 



What bear ye on your shoulders, men? 

Is it my Jamie, stark and dead? 
What did you say? 
Once more, I pray — 

I did not gather what you said. 
What! drunk! you tell that lie to me? 
What ! drunk ! O God ! it cannot be ) 
It cannot be my Jamie dear 
Lying in drunken slumber here ! 
It is, it is, as you have said ! 
Men, lay him on yon waiting bed. 



J 78 How Jamie came Heme. 

Tis Jamie, yes ! a bearded man, 
Though bearing still some boyhood's trace; 
Stained with the ways 
Of reckless days, 
Flushed with the wine-cup in his face ; 
Swelled with the fruits of reckless years, 
Robbed of each trait that e'er endears, 
Except the heart-distiessing one 
That Jamie is our only son. 



O mother ! take the kettle off, 
And set the ham and eggs away! 
What was my crime, 
And when the time, 
That I should live to see this day? 
For all the sighs I ever drew, 
And all the grief I ever knew, 
And all the tears I ever shed 
Above our children that are dead, 
And all the care that creased my brow, 
Were naught to what comes o'er me now. 



I would to God that when the three 
We lost were hidden from our view, 
Jamie had died, 
And by their side 
Had lain all pure and spotless too ! 
I would this rain might fall above 
The grave of him we joyed to love, 
Rather than hear its coming traced 
Upon this roof he has disgraced ! 
But, mother, Addie, come this way, 
And let us kneel, and humbly pray. 

Will M. Carleton. 



IV/uzt is the Liquor 'Shop ? 179 



What is the LiqjjOR-SHOP ? 

A vampire fattening en the pain 

Of bleeding hearts and children slain; 

A foe to virtue,, learning, truth, 

The bane of age and snare of youth ; 

A licensed woe and murder den, 

A curse and pest to honest men ; 

A nation's burning blot and shame, 

Which all its noblest deeds defame; 

Death's gilded door, round which men wait, 

And madly take the poisoned bait ; 

A source from which pollution streams, 

Darkening beauty's heavenly beams; 

The poor man's foe and wise man's dread, 

Where poverty to vice is wed ; 

A trumpet-call to ail the good 

To join in holy brotherhood 

This glaring wrong to sweep away, 

And hydra hosts of evil slay; 

The misery and crime it brings 

To rank among departed things, 

Whose spectres, trembling in the gloom, 

Us wakeful keep, lest it resume 

Its blasted sway, and, daring, wage 

Destructive warfare with the age. 

Then rouse ye, all who hold the helm 

Of public action in the realm I 

Mark well the facts within your reach, 

For these a fearful lesson teach 

Of fostering ignorance and sin 

In these abodes of beer and gin. 

If, then, from guilt you would be free, 

Declare this evil shall not be ! 



l8o Introductory. 



) 



INTRODUCTORY. 



A hafpy greeting for all. We welcome parents and 
friends to another meeting. If you look around, you see 
that our faces are glad. Why do we look glad? It is 
because we are glad ! 

" We're glad we're in this army" — the Temperance 
Army ! We are glad of the approval which so many 
parents and friends are giving to our efforts. It is to us 
like the clear sunshine of spring. We arc glad for what 
we expect to enjoy at this meeting. We have songs 
prepared, and recitations, declamations, and dialogues. 
Prayer will be offered, and we expect a short address 
from our minister or some one else at the close. We are 
glad to have a temperance society of our own. We feel 
that it is good to pledge ourselves against intoxicating 
drinks, profanity, and tobacco. We enjoy voting for our 
own officers. We like to get new members. We are 
trying to get every boy and girl in the place. We like to 
speak and to hear our mates speak. We enjoy the dia- 
logues and the commendations we sometimes get from 
our ministers and parents and others. 

Some folks may say, " It is small business — nothing 
but children's play." Well, we guess the world would be 
a dreary place without some children's play ; and the 
best of it is that our play here is good wdrk, and our 
work here is good play. Our work here is good play for 
us, because we like it so well ; and our play here is good 
work, because we learn to remember, to think, to speak, 
to hate drinking, swearing, and smoking, and to love the 
temperance cause and every other good cause. But we 
are sure you will not call our little steps toward a good 
future child's play. If the steps are small, the day of 
small things should not be despised. We are glad you 



The Temperance Giant* 181 

have come to see us trip playfully along our ways of 
pleasantness. We renew our happy greeting, and hope 
you will approve and enjoy our songs and recitations 
and dialogues, and the collection too. 



The Temperance Giant. 

1 AM strong in contention; ay, strong in my wrath; 
Through the mountain and valley I've hewn out a path ; 

And wherever I go, 

Be it swiftly or slow, 
I shall strike down the foemen of truth with a blow. 
I say to the rocks, Ye shall burst with despair 
As my way to the future ye haste to prepare ; 
While out of the forest 1 summon the trees 
To make me a jacket to wear on the seas. 
They come at my bidding, and grant my behest, 
For they know it is useless my way to arrest. 

From nothing I shrink ; 

And what do you think ? 
I only want plenty of water to drink ! 



My sinews are iron, my nerves are of steel, 
The savage invader I crush 'neath my heel ; 

I grind at the mill, 

And never am still, 
Yet always I whistle with cheery good-will, 
If those who would use me don't seek to abuse, 
And give me more food than I know how to use; 
But if they neglect me, the penalty's sure — 
A good blowing-up they will have to endure ! 



1 82 The Temperance Giant. 

It is no easy thing for a giant, you know, 
To get up his steam and determine to go; 

And once under way, 

It is work, and not play, 
For the spirit within him he's bound to obey ! 

The giants are many that traverse the earth, 

With light and with darkness they sprang into birth ; 

And as onward they go, 

Be it swiftly or slow, 
Some good they will take, or some good they'll bestow. 
Some blight with their touch the sweet blossoms that 

grace 
Our homes, and so foully their beauty deface 
That we turn with a shudder whenever their breath 
Is nigh, for we know 'tis the savor of death ! 
Intemperate demons are these who destroy 
The altars of peace and the fountains of joy. 

From such let us shrink 

With abhorrence, and think 
It is something much stronger than water they drink. 

More temperance giants our country requires 
To manage its work and to kindle its fires — 

Strong men who'll engage 

Strong warfare to wage 
Against the great curse of this rum-ridden age ! 
At the desk, at the counter, in halls of debate, 
If high his position or low his estate, 
A man we would find, uncorrupted by pelf, 
A law to his neighbor, a law to himself! 
Go, count up the terrible deeds you have known; 
And marvel why men can't let whiskey alone, 

When so low they can sink. 

Oh ! shouldn't you think 
That they'd rather have water, pure water, to drink ? 

Josephine Pollard. 



The Liquor Interest. 183 



The Lic^uof^ Interest. 

Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching ; how- 
many of them? Sixty thousand ! Sixty full regiments, 
every man of which will, before twelve months shall 
have completed their course, lie down in the grave of a 
drunkard! Every year during the past decade has wit- 
nessed the same sacrifice ; and sixty regiments stand 
behind this army ready to take its place. It is to be 
recruited from our children and our children's children. 
" Tramp, tramp, tramp" — the sounds come to us in the 
echoes of the footsteps of the army just expired ; tramp, 
tramp, tramp — the earth shakes with the tread of the 
host now passing; tramp, tramp, tramp, comes to us 
from the camp of the recruits. A great tide of life flows 
resistlessly to its death. What in God's name are they 
fighting for? The privilege of pleasing an appetite, of 
conforming to a social usage, of filling sixty thousand 
homes with shame and sorrow, of loading the public 
with the burden of pauperism, of crowding our prison- 
houses w r ith felons, of detracting from the productive 
industries of the country, of ruining fortunes and break- 
ing hopes, of breeding disease and wretchedness, of 
destroying both body and soul in hell before their time. 

The prosperity of the liquor interest, covering every 
department of it, depends entirely on the maintenance 
of this army. It cannot live without it. It never did 
live without it. So long as the liquor interest main- 
tains its present prosperous condition, it will cost Ame" 
rica the sacrifice of sixty thousand men every year. The 
effect is inseparable from the cause. The cost to the 
country of the liquor traffic is a sum so stupendous that 
any figures which we should dare to give would convict 
us of trifling, The amount of life absolutely destroyed, 



184 The Liquor Interest. 

the amount 01 industry sacrificed, the amount of bread 
transformed into poison, the shame, the unavailing sor- 
row, the crime, the poverty, the pauperism, the brutality^ 
the wild waste of vital and financial resources, make an 
aggregate so vast, so incalculably vast, that the only 
wonder is that the American people do not rise as one 
man, and declare that this great curse shall exist no 
longer. Dilettante conventions are held on the subject 
of peace by men and women who find it necessary to 
fiddle to keep themselves awake. A hue-and cry is raised 
about woman suffrage, as if any wrong which may be 
involved in woman's lack of the suffrage could be com- 
pared to the wrongs attached to the liquor interest 

Does any sane woman doubt that women are suffering 
a thousand times more from rum than from any political 
disability ? 

The truth is that there is no question before the Ame- 
rican people to-day that begins to match in importance 
the temperance question. The question of American 
slavery was never anything but a baby by the side of 
this ; and we prophesy that within ten years, if not 
within five, the whole country will be awake to it and 
divided upon it. The organizations of the liquor interest, 
the vast funds at its command, the universal feeling 
among those whose business is pitted against the na- 
tional prosperity and the public morals — these are 
enough to show that, upon one side of this matter, at 
least, the present condition of things and the social and 
political questions that lie in the immediate future are 
apprehended. The liquor interest knows there is to be a 
great struggle, and is preparing to meet it. People both 
in this country and in Great Britain are beginning to see 
the enormity of this business — are beginning to realize 
that Christian civilization is actually poisoned at its 
fountain, and that there can be no purification of it until 
the source of the poison is dried up. 

Meantime, the tramp, tramp, tramp sounds on — the 



No Drunkard in Heaven. i S 5 

tramp of sixty thousand yearly victims. Some are be- 
sotted and stupid ; some are wild with hilarity, and dance 
along the dusty way ; some reel along in pitiful weakness ; 
some wreak their mad and murderous impulses on one 
another, or on the helpless women and children whose 
destinies are united to theirs ; some stop in wayside de- 
baucheries and infamies for a moment ; some go bound 
in chains, from which they seek in vain to wrench their 
bleeding wrists ; and all are poisoned in body and soul, 
and all are doomed to death. Wherever they move, 
crime, poverty, shame, wretchedness, and despair hover 
in awful shadows. There is no bright side to the pic- 
ture. We forget : there is just one. The men who make 
this army get rich. Their children are robed in purple 
and fine linen, and live upon dainties. Some of them are 
regarded as respectable members of society, and they 
hold conventions to protect their interests! Still the 
tramp, tramp, tramp goes on.— J. G. Holland, in Scrzb- 
ners Monthly. 



F 



o Drunkard in Heaven. 



No drunkard in heaven ! there temperance reigns, 

And no reeling inebriate o'er the bright plains 

Will stumble, and totter, and fall by the way, 

As if night had usurped the glad sceptre of day. 

No drunkard in heaven ! each eye is as clear 
As if never on earth was it dimmed by a tear, 
And calmly and steadily looks on the light 
Which showeth God's glory to man's renewed sight* 

No drunkard in heaven ! each heart is awake, 
The bliss of the seraphs and saints to partake, 



1 86 Necessity of Perseverance, 

To share in the joy of that all-perfect love, 
Uniting pure hearts in the mansions above. 

No drunkard in heaven ! oh ! if thou wouldst be 
A lone, drifting wreck on eternity's sea, 
Fill high the red bowl, and thy libations pour 
To the Bacchus who wasteth the soul evermore. 

No drunkard in heaven ! oh ! pause in thy path, 
Ere the cloud which is gath'ring around thee in wrath, 
Shall its fury expend on thy shelterless head, 
And its red bolts of justice be faithfully sped. 

No drunkard in heaven ! yet mayst thou be there, 
To greet the dear friends that white raiment shall wear, 
To bless the kind hand which the pledge offered thee, 
And the power that hath helped thee through it to be 
free ! 

Rev, Phebe A. Hanaford, in Temp, Album, 



Necessity of Perseverance, 

We must not grow weary in well-doing. The cause of 
temperance is the cause of Christ, and sooner or later 
will surely triumph. The true soldier fights from prin- 
ciple and for principle. He would rather die a score of 
deaths than deserve the reputation of a coward. In this 
moral warfare we should be true soldiers. We know not 
how soon our cause will triumph ; for it is none of our 
business to know. We know this, and that is enough to 
nerve us to our greatest and best efforts : that our cause 
is right, and, being right, will ultimately win the field. 
This is as certain as that Christ shall reign until he hath 



Necessity of Perseverance. 

Ddt all enemies under his feet. Intemperance is one t>i 
those enemies, and must go down before he shall give up 
the kingdom to the Father. 

The perseverance necessary to sustain the vigorous 
and protracted efforts that must still be put forth in the 
cause of temperance will require the strength and inspi- 
ration of the Christian faith. We fear that anything 
short of this will give way before the ever-recurring diffi- 
culties that will arise, and the constantly-increasing 
sacrifices that will be required. The leaders especially 
must be men of this faith, and, with the needful enthu- 
siasm in their own hearts, they should be able to arouse 
the same in the hearts of others. The boldest of the 
ancient prophets w r as sometimes despondent ; but the 
word of the Lord would revive the spirit of his mind, and 
Elijah was himself again. If this prophet of God in his 
Master's cause needed divine assurance and inspiration, 
how much more do the leading prophets in this moral 
reform need a similar support? They must meet and 
overcome present discouragements by looking to the 
same Source of strength. 

A true friend continues faithful to us in our adversity. 
He feels more and works harder for us in our reverses 
than when all things go well -with us. That will be a 
marked characteristic in every true friend of temperance. 
The more his services are needed, the more promptly 
and cheerfully will they be offered and devoted to the 
cause. Let every one work on with unceasing, increas- 
ing zeal, looking only to the righteousness of the cause, 
the true sources of wisdom and strengthTand the blessed 
effects upon the character of the laborer of invincible 
fidelity to high and worthy principle. 

Rev. N. E. Cobleigh. 



1 88 Let every Vote be No. 



Let every Vote be No. 

Vote yes ! and the lava-tide of death 
Over cottage, hall, and bower 

Shall roll its dark, blood-crested wave, 
While madness rules the hour. 



Vote no ! and the white-winged angel, Peace, 
Shall dwell in the drunkard's home ; 

And beams of temperance, truth, and light 
Dispel the withering gloom. 



Vote yes ! and the careworn heart will break, 

The pale lip hush its prayer ; 
The wretched drunkard downward haste 

To realms of dark despair. 

Vote no ! and the mother's heart will leap, 

The sister's eye be dry, 
The poor inebriate clasp his hands, 

And raise his voice on high. 

Oh ! then, by the life which God hath given, 
By your powers to curse or bless, 

By your fears of hell and } r our hope of heaven, 
Let not your vote be yes. 

By the cherished heart's bitter wrong, 

By the spirit's deathless woe — 
In the name of God and the name of man, 

Let every vote be no. 



Intemperance the Social Battle of the Age, 189 



Intemperance the Great Social Battle 
of the Age. 

This is the great social battle of the age which we are 
fighting between the flesh and the spirit — between the 
animal and the man. We are living in a time when no- 
thing can save us but moral principle in the individual. 
Our government is an equal government, as such. We 
have cast in our destiny on this great principle of popu- 
lar government, and we must go up with it, or go down 
with it. It is for us to maintain our institutions, if they 
are maintained at all ; and unless we can teach individu- 
als and the masses self respect and self control, we are 
utterly ruined. It is a mere matter of time. There is no 
salvation for institutions like ours except in the princi- 
ple of self-control. And there is no single evil, social or 
political, that strikes more at the foundation of such in- 
stitutions than the drinking habits of society. If you 
corrupt the working-class by drink ; if you corrupt the 
great middle-class by drink ; if you corrupt the literary 
and wealthy classes by drink, you have destroyed the 
commonwealth beyond your power to save it. And we 
are making battle for the preservation of this moral prin- 
ciple. It is the great patriotic movement of the day. 
Therefore we must have clear heads ; we must have right 
consciences ; we must have all the manhood that is in 
men, or that can educate them to it. The good that is in 
society will not be a match for the evil that is continual- 
ly pulling it down. 

Now, young men, which side are you to take in this 
great struggle ? Will you go for license ? Will you go 
for passion ? Will you go for corruption ? Or will you 
range yourselves on the side of those who arc attempt- 
ing to lift men up toward spirituality ; toward true rea- 
son ; toward noble self-control ? You can afford to go 



190 Take a Stand. 

but one way. Every young man who has one impulse of 
heroism, one generous tendency in him, ought in the be- 
ginning to take his ground beyond all controversy, and 
say, " I work for those who work for the good and beau- 
tiful and true." 

Henry Ward Beecher. 



T 



ake a Stand. 



If temperance men would take a stand, 

And show their true position, 
Nor yield a point to friend or foe, 

Or scheming politician ; 
If they would light for principle, 

For justice and for right, 
And whatsoe'er they find to do, 

Would do it with their might, 
Our land, which now is so corrupt 

That all good men abhor it, 
Might lift her trailing banner up, 

And be the better for it. 

If those for whom we cast our vote 

Would not so oft betray us, 
And, weakly shrinking from their trust, 

On error's side array us ; 
If they would only bravely stand 

And face the wily foe, 
And in each point of right or wrong 

Say firmly yes or no, 
Our land, which now is so corrupt 

That all good men abhor it, 
Might lift her trailing banner up, 

And surel}- be better for it. 

Christian Statesman. 



The Bards of Bacchus. 191 



The Bards of Bacchus. 

THEY may sing of the joys in the wine-cup that dwell, 
And in music the raptures of drunkenness tell, 
And over the filth of debauchery throw 
The splendors of genius to cover their woe; 
Believe not their tale, nor the falsehood repeat, 
Though the lie be in verse, and its music most sweet, 
From the song that's inspired by a bottle of wine, 
Though 'tis sung by love's lips, turn away, brother mine. 

Do the}' think, when they babble of pleasures that 

spring 
From the vintage-crowned bowl, that we know not 

the sting 
Of the serpent that hides in the beaker, though bright 
Is the sparkle that plays round its brim, like the 

light? 
Do they tell of the fevers, the headaches, that, born 
Of the midnight's excess, crown the debauchee's morn? 
Of the pockets collapsed, of the rubicund nose, 
Of the rheum in the eyes, and the gout in the toes? 

Not the}', precious souls ! It would ruin their verse ! 
And why should they make what is bad enough worse? 
It would turn topsy-turvy a cart-load of rhyme. 
And convict them of sense, which, in such bards, is a 

crime. 
Lewd songs and lewd singing, alas ! would be o'er, 
N<;r gin-guzzling Byron nor wine-bibbing Moore 
Be held up as patterns by bardlings who think 
That the fountain of song is a can of strong drink. 

Let them sing what they list, let them live as they will, 
And worship old Bacchus, and guzzle his swill ; 



192 The Sluggard, the Beast, and the Drunkard. 

And dream, if they can, that the joy which they find 
In the madd'ning debauch is a balm to the mind. 
They may cheat their own souls with their songs and 

their lies, 
But the boys of the Pledge, they have ears and have 

eyes ; 
By the wine-cup untempted their song shall still be, 
"The fountain shall furnish the drink of the 

FREE ! " 

William H. Burleigh. 



The Sluggard, the Beast, and the 
Drunkard. 

The drunkard drinks until he has drunk all the 
money out of his purse, all the sense out of his head, all 
the honor out of his character, and then there is no 
difference between him and the beast. Yes, begging the 
beast's pardon, there is a difference. The beast can go 
forward and keep its way. The beast has not abused its 
own nature ; has not degraded its own race. The per- 
sistent drunkard is lower down in the scale of creation 
than Darwin's ape at the beginning. 

On the same ruinous scale, the sluggard wastes his 
life. He sleeps all thrift out of his shop; sleeps all 
friends out of his company; sleeps all grace out of his 
heart; sleeps all religion, and order, and prosperity out 
of his home ; sleeps all conscience out of his dealings ; 
sleeps himself into nothing and into hell. The world has 
a multitude of these triflers in luxurious laziness, worth- 
less to community, mopes and encumbrances in society, 
sinking, for lack of employment, into shame, and pov- 
erty, and death. God pity the poor fool who despises 
work, who lives to feed and to sleep ! He is not quite 
so dangerous, perhaps, as the drunkard, but he is more 



The Graded Alphabet. 193 

degraded and more repulsive. Christianity proposes to 
give men and women every-day work; and unless it un- 
gloves the hand and prompts the foot on errands 01 
duty, iC fails of its mission upon the earth. 



The Graded Alphabet. 

A IS the young man's first glass of ale, 
B is the beer which next will prevail, 
C is the cider, so simple at first, 

Causing in future unquenchable thirst, 
D is the dram taken morn, noon, or eve, 
E is the extra one — at eleven, I believe — 
F is the flip thought so good for a' cold, 
G is the gin not so pure as of old, 
H is the hotel, where often he goes, 
I is the inner room he so well knows, 
J is the jug he there fills to the brim, 
K is the knocking of conscience within, 
L is the landlord, who smiles as you drink, 
M is your money he's getting, I think, 
N is the nightmare which visits your brain, 
O is the orgies of a midnight train, 
P is the poor, penniless pauper you become, 
O is the quarrel, the product of rum, 
R is the ruin rum brings to your door, 
? is the suffering ne'er known before, 
T is the tremens, and mark this as true : 

The}' make few calls ere death must ensue 
U is the undertaker who comes to your aid, 

V is the valley where your body is laid, 
W is the wretchedness, wailing, and woe 
'X ecrable drunkards alone can know, 

Y is the yearning for misspent time, 

Z is the zenith of the drunkard's clime. 



194 Drunk in the Street. 



P 



RUNK IN THE STREET. 



Drunk in the street I 
A woman arrested to-day in the city! 
Comely and young, the paper said; 
Scarcely twenty, the item read ; 
A woman and wife — kind angels pity! 
Drunk in the street ! 

Drunk in the street I 
Yes, crazy with liquor ; her brain on fire f 
Reeling, plunging,, stagg'ring along, 
Singing a strain of a childish song; 
At last she stumbles and falls in the mire- 
Drunk in the street I 

Drunk in the street? 
What news to send the dear ones home, 

Who're wond'ring what has detained so long 
The wife and mother, yet think no wrong ) 
The day is waning, the night is come— 
Drunk in the street ! 

Drunk in the street ! 
Drag her away to a station-bed ; 
Helpless, senseless, take her away * 
Shut her up from the light of day ; 
Would, for the sake of her friends, she were dead 9 
Drunk in the street ! 

Draw nigh and look ! 
On a couch of straw in a station-cell 
Is lying a form of matchless mould, 
With hair dishevelled, so pale and cold, 
Yet tainting the air with the fumes of hell! 
Draw nigh and look I 



A Word to Young Men. 195 

How sad the sight ! 
The sunlight is streaming across the floor, 
It rouses the sleeper to life again ; 
But, oh ! the anguish, the grief, the pain, 
As thoughts of her shame come crowding o'er — 
How sad the sight ! 

But hark ! a sound ! 
The bolt flies back, she is told to rise ; 
Her friends are waiting to take her home. 
They know it all, yet in love they come ; 
But with speechless lips and tearless eyes — 
The lost one's found. 

Behold her now ! 
She goes all trembling with shame away, 
Her brain still clouded with fumes of rum, 
And turns her tottering feet towards home 
And the hearts she left but yesterday — 
How diff rent now ! 

Close we the scene ! 
Fall, O night ! o'er the saddest sight 
That ever appeared to mortal view; 
Shield, O skies ! with your vaulted blue 
Shut, O gates of memory ! tight — 
Close we the scene ! 

E. B. Wicks. M.D. 



A Word to Young ^en, 

How many of our most promising young men does in* 
temperance ensnare, and, by its impetuous torrent, sweep 
away to infamy and the grave ! Many young men have 
yielded to the solicitations of their associates and taken 



196 A Word to You7ig Men. 

a glass who never intended to take another, or at least 
not to make a practice of it ; but when they have once 
tasted the cup, they ventured again and again ; and thus 
led on step by step, they soon become drunkards. The 
vice of intemperance hurries its victim with the violence 
of passion, captivates him by the allurements of pleasure ; 
he yields to the impulse, merely because he cannot resist 
it ; reason remonstrates, conscience endeavors to check 
him, but all in vain. Having once allowed the strong 
passion to gain the ascendant, he has thrown himself in 
the middle of a torrent, against which he may sometimes 
faintly struggle, but the impetuosity of the stream bears 
him along. In this situation he is so far from being free 
that he is not master of himself; he does not go, but is 
driven, tossed, and impelled, passive like a ship to the 
violence of the waves. 

How often have unworthy friendships, imprudent and 
vicious associates, engaged young men, unwarily at first, 
and at length habitually in a fatal course of folly and 
crime ! Let me ask where has the dissolute young man 
contracted these vices, which, in spite of his convictions, 
are dragging him captive at their will ; where the worth- 
less gambler learned his infamous trade ; where the con- 
temptible lounger acquired his habits of idleness ; where 
the prodigal, the intemperate, the profligate, where have 
they corrupted all their powers, both of body and of 
soul ? Was it not in vicious society, whose pleasure is 
in the intoxicating bowl ? Pause, young man, and fly 
from the haunts of " club-rooms," saloons, and tippling- 
shops, where intoxicating liquors are sold. Perhaps you 
may feel unconcerned on this subject, because you never 
were drunkards. But let me tell you all drunkards felt 
just so before they were enslaved and brutalized by in- 
temperance. What young man can look upon the dread- 
ful picture I have but imperfectly drawn, and not per- 
ceive his danger? A mournful cry comes from the pri- 
son-cell, and cautions all to flee from the accursed enemy 



The Mouse and Ilcr Promise. 197 

of our peace and liberty. The grave, too, into which so 
many have gone down, the unhappy victims of inebria- 
tion, speaks in solemn tones to escape from the unrelent- 
ing enemy. A voice also, as within, the unerring moni- 
tor, warns all to beware of the insidious foe. All, all 
speak in a voice like the rushing of mighty waters 
against intemperance. 

Young men, I pray you heed this advice, and avoid 
the dens of darkness and destruction; go not near the 
sinks of iniquity ; pass by them as you would a pestilence 
which is sure death. Your good example will do much, 
very much, towards checking the progress of the abom- 
inable practice of rum drinking. Abstain from the prac- 
tice yourself, and do all you can to save those of your 
age from falling into the vice of intemperance, which is 
making so many pests of society and cumberers of the 
earth ; which is robbing them of their characters, blunt- 
ing their minds, hardening their hearts, and searing their 
consciences. If you desire to be respected, abstain from 
the appearance of evil, lest you be drawn into tempta- 
tion. Resist — ay, that is the word — resist, with all the en- 
ergy you possess, the beginning, and shun the occasions 
of so dangerous a vice as that of intemperance. 

A. L. 



The J&oxjse and Hef^ Promise. 

A little mouse fell into a brewery-vat, 

And lay in distress till espied by a cat; 

"O pussy! kind pussy! do help me, I pray!" 

"If I do," said the cat, "you will run right away." 

"Oh ! no, Mrs. Puss, I will certainly stay." 

So in went a paw — a struggle and splash, 

And Mousy was safe, and off like a flash. 

" Contemptible wretch ! without honor or shame, 

Is it thus," cried the cat, "that you perjure your name?' 



198 Make it a Political Question. 

"Hold! hold! Mrs. Puss, I will show in a trice 
That my sense of honor is exceedingly nice ; 
But who could expect ine," said mouse, with a snicker, 
"A promise to keep that I made when in liquor?" 



Make it a Political Question. 

We must take the subject out of the domain of social 
and religious questions, and insist on making it a politi- 
cal one. Everything that appertains to the common 
weal is a fair subject of legislation. The science of poli- 
tics deals with the commonwealth. And is not the main- 
spring of almost all the pauperism and most of the crime 
committed in the land a suitable topic for political dis- 
cussion ? Yes ; but we are met with the cry, The " free- 
dom of the subject " must not be endangered. There is 
a limit to the interference of law. Individual liberty 
must not be sacrificed. Well, I grant that government 
ought not to interfere in anything which concerns the 
life of an individual, unless the interests of others are 
affected by that life. And are not the interests of others 
affected by the life of a drunkard? Is his example no- 
thing? The pauperization of his family nothing ? The 
brutal treatment of his children nothing? The diminu- 
tion of productive labor in consequence of this vice 
nothing? The perpetuation of this evil — God visiting 
the sins of the father upon the children to the third and 
fourth generation — is this nothing? Are not the inte- 
rests of society affected by a vice which fills jails, starves 
families, shatters reason, and creates murderers ? Is the 
depopulation of our country not a sufficiently important 
matter to occupy the attention of government ? I sha'n't 
attempt statistical proof— all can do it for themselves ; I 
should thank God if I be mistaken, but I believe that 
the number of men who are killed prematurely by drink 
is simply frightful. Legislatures give good heed to 



Onward and Upward, 199 

everything that will increase our population, and we are 

all deeply interested in inducing immigration to develop 
our resources as a nation, lint if we could only, by sani- 
tary arrangements, save the lives of the children born in 
the land, and by a prohibitory law save the thousands 
of young men who die annually of intemperance, we 
should not be so dependent on foreign emigration as we 
now are. And let it be remembered that it is not the 
refuse of the population, the offscouring of humanity, 
who are alone the victims of this plague. No ; it fastens 
on the finest intellects. It selects for its prey the most 
highly cultivated minds, and drags into degradation and 
death men whose genius might have enriched the world. 
Again, I ask, what is self-government worth if it is afraid 
to touch the root and cause of such a national disaster? 
Sure I am that if all the deaths from intemperance every 
year, instead of being diffused over the large area of the 
country, were concentrated in a smaller area, say the dis- 
tilleries, six months would not elapse before the general 
conscience of the people would clamor for a remedy ; 
they would be thunderstruck at the loss incurred, and 
would force upon their representatives the conviction 
that modes of generating wealth so destructive of human 
life demand immediate prohibition, 



P 



NWARD AND UPWARD. 



The ancient days of chivalry are past, 

So long renowned in song and story, 
Their glories chanted and their praises sung 

By many a wandering bard and poet hoary, 
Whose wild and ever-changing measure told 

Of quivering lance and prancing steed, 
Of knightly combat and of gleaming mail, 

Of gorgeous pageantry and valorous deed. 



200 A Righteous Demand. 

And listening to his story in the hush 

Of eve, how many an aged pulse beat high, 
And youthful cheeks were tinged with hope's fair flus 

As youthful hearts resolved to " Do or die ! " 
And they who conquered, what was their reward? 

Was it for sparkling gems or gold 
They perilled life, and both the young and brave 

Were lying 'neath the willow, motionless and cold ? 

Twas for a name, an empty song of praise, 

A laurel wreath that faded ere the sun 
Came o'er the hills, and gilded with his rays 

The scene — now still — where victory was won. 
But now we sing a higher, nobler theme 

Than tales of chivalry in by-gone days; 
For this shall minstrels strike their richest chords, 

And poets breathe their softest, sweetest lays. 

The strife is on the temperance battle-field ; 

There right shall be the bloodless sword, 
Truth an impenetrable shield, 

And for a motto, "Onward" is the word. 
rr Onward and Upward" let the echoes ring 

O'er valley green or barren hill. 
Through crowded cities, with their dust and din, 

" Onward and Upward " is the watchword still, 
Till Drink, the tyrant, from his throne be hurled, 
And white-robed Temperance rule o'er all the world. 



A F 



ighteous Demand. 



I know I am right when I say that the traffic in in- 
toxicating liquors is at war with every interest of society, 
is in deadly hostility to every man, woman, and child to 
all eternity, and that such business ought not to be 



A Righteous Demand. 201 

permitted to be carried on in a civilized and Christian 
community. I know it ought to be prohibited ; 1 am 
sure that the people will come to it, and that the coun- 
try will be ready for it by-and-by. The grog-shops, as 
they exist in this country, are the cause of greater evils 
than all other causes of evil combined. No man can 
deny that it is so. We demand that they shall be abol- 
ished by law. I submit, if any man objects to our pro- 
position, he is bound to show that more good comes 
from the grog-shops than evil. The law-making power 
comes and shuts up the gambling saloon, the lottery- 
shop, and the house of ill-fame, because they are incon- 
sistent with the general good. There is the grog-shop ; 
shut it up. It is ten thousand times more injurious than 
all other things combined. Railways kill a great many 
people, and by better precautionary measures life would 
be safer on railroads than it now is ; but is there any 
proposition to abolish railroads? No; because more 
good than evil comes from the railway. Steamboats 
produce immense mischief by explosions and collisions ; 
but it is not proposed to abolish steam navigation, be- 
cause more good than evil comes from the use of steam- 
boats. I defy any man to show that good comes from 
the grog-shops, to the amount of a single farthing, to the 
nation or to the peqple, while the evils flowing from them 
are greater than all other existing evils in society. No 
man can deny that the traffic in intoxicating drinks is 
an infinite mischief to the nation, and brings misery to 
the people, and that the entire suppression of that traffic 
would be an infinite advantage to the nation and an 
incalculable blessing to the people. If he is a distiller 
and a member of the whiskey-ring, he cannot deny that. 

Who objects ? The people who are making fortunes 
out of it and the moderate drinkers. And this is their 
position : they must acknowledge that the liquor traffic 
effects the mischief which I have represented, and its 
abolition will be a great benefit to society ; but they 



202 The Modern Cain. 

say: " We will not submit to it, because it would put us 
to inconvenience to get our drink." Independent of the 
question of pecuniary interest, any man who objects to 
this movement, it is upon that ground, and upon no 
other, Neal Dow. 



The Modern Cain, 



"Am I my brother's keeper?" 

Long ago, 
When first the human heart-strings felt the touch 
Of death's cold fingers ; when upon the earth, 
Shroudless and coffinless, death's first-born lay, 
Slain by the hand of violence, the wail of human 
grief arose : 

" My son, my son ! 
Awake thee from this strange and awful sleep ; 
A mother mourns thee, and her tears of grief 
Are falling on thy pale, unconscious brow: 
Awake, and bless her with thy wonted smile." 

In vain, in vain! That sleeper never woke; 
His murderer fled, but on his bro\y was fixed 
A stain which baffled wear and washing. As he fled, 
A voice pursued him to the wilderness : 

" Where is thy brother, Cain ? " 

"Am I my brother's keeper?" 
Cain, Cain, 
Thou art thy brother's keeper, and his blood 
Cries up to heaven against thee ! Every stone 
Will find a tongue to curse thee, and the winds 
Will ever wail this question in thy ear : 
"Where is thy brother?" Every sight and sound 
Will mind thee of the lost. 



The Modern Cain. 203 

I saw a man 
Deal death unto his brother. Drop by drop 
Tiie poison was distilled for cursed gold ; 
And in the wine-cup's ruddy glow sat death, 
Invisible to that poor tremnling slave. 
He seized the cup, he drank the poison down, 
Rushed forth into the streets — home had he none— 
Staggered and fell, and miserably died ! 
They buried him — ah! little recks it where 
His bloated form was given to the worms. 

Once had he friends ; 
A happy home was his, and love was his. 
His Mary loved him, and around him played 
His smiling children. Oh! a dream of joy 
Were those unclouded years ; and, more than all, 
He had an interest in the world above. 
The big " Old Bible " lay upon the stand, 
And he was wont to read its sacred page, 
And then to pray: "Our Father, bless the poor, 
And save the tempted from the tempter's art; 
Save us from sin, and ever let us be 
United in thy love; and may we meet, 
"When life's last scenes are o'er, around the throne." 
Thus prayed he — thus lived he. Years passed, 
And o'er the sunshine of that happy home 
A cloud came from the pit; the fatal bolt 
Fell from that cloud. The towering tree 
Was shivered by the lightning's vengeful stroke, 
And laid its coronal of glory low. 
A happy home was ruined ; want and woe 
Played with his children, and the joy of youth 
Left their sweet faces, no more to return. 
His Mary's face grew pale and paler still, 
Her eyes were dimmed with weeping, and her soul 
Went out through those blue portals. Mary died. 
And yet he wept not. At the demon's call, 



204 The Modern Cain. 

He drowned his sorrow in the maddening bowl ; 
And when they buried her from sight, he sank 
In drunken stupor by her new made grave ! 
His friend was gone — he never had another — 
And the world shrank from him ; all save one, 
And he still plied the bowl with deadly drug, 
And bade him drink, forget his God, and die ! 

He died! 
Cain! Cain! where is thy brother now? 
Lives he still — if dead, still where is he? 
Where ? In heaven ? Go read the sacred page . 
" No drunkard shall inherit there/' 

Who sent him to the pit? Who dragged him down? 
Who bound him hand and foot? Who smiled and 

smiled 
While yet the hellish work went on? Who grasped 
His gold, his health, his life, his hope, his all ? 
Who saw his Mary fade and die ? Who saw 
His beggared children wandering in the streets? 
Speak, coward ! If thou hast a tongue, 
Tell why with hellish art you slew A man. 

" Where is my brother ? " 

"Am I my brother's keeper?' 
Ah ! man, a deeper mark is on your brow 
Than that of Cain. Accursed was the name 
Of him who slew a righteous man, whose soul 
Was ripe for heaven ; thrice accursed he 
Whose art malignant sinks a soul to hell. 

Prof. E. Evans Edwards. 



Work and Results. 205 



Work and Results. 

A GENTLEMAN said to me the other day: " The tempe- 
rance cause is dead." It is not dead, for it was born in 
the church of Christ, and that which is born there can 
never die. Right is to triumph in the end. You and I 
will not live to see it, but it will come. Nero sat on the 
throne, clothed in purple, and at his nod men trembled. 
In the Mamertine dungeon a man was writing a letter to 
Timothy to send him his cloak, for he was shivering in 
one of the dungeons of the Roman capital. Years rolled 
on, and right and wrong contended with each other. 
The former died a miserable suicide, but the prisoner 
wrote on and finished his letter: " I have fought a good 
fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith " — 
words which have comforted millions for generations. 
And the world could better afford to lose all the words 
of eloquence that ever fell from the lips of Roman orators, 
than to lose one word of what the chained prisoner wrote 
in his dungeon. My experience has led me to this con- 
clusion, that we trust too much even to our organiza- 
tions and to our efforts. We are in too much of a hurry ; 
we want results immediately. We do a thing and want 
results to come at once, forgetting that with the Lord 
one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as 
one day. It is God's work, and not ours — we are workers. 
If a man stands as a machine, and if he is connected by a 
band of living faith with God Almighty, he is doing his 
work as he will, where he will, and when he will, and 
occupies the highest position a man can occupy in this 
world. God is the motive power, and our work is simply 
nothing in comparison with him. Then as we put forth 
our efforts, let us make our appeal to him. 

I remember (and I do not know whether it was a legend 
or not) that a missionary party were passing over the 



2o6 Work a, id Results. 

prairie, when one of them exclaimed, M See, see that red 
glare ; what is it?" They looked and watched, and one 
old trapper, shading his eye with his hand, cried out, 
"The prairie is on fire, and it is spreading at the rate of 
twenty miles an hour. It will destroy us, and nothing 
will be left but a few charred bones to tell of the party 
passing over the prairie." "What shall be done ? " The 
trapper cried, "We must fight fire with fire. Work! 
work ! Pull up the grass ; make the circle larger, larger, 
larger ! Quick, quick, I feel the heat upon my brow ! 
Quick for your lives ! pull up the grass ! pull up the 
grass ! Now for the matches ! " 

They searched, and found two. Hastily they struck 
one, and it failed — utterly failed. One match ! and the 
fire coming in the distance, leaping with its forked 
tongues through the dry grass, at twenty miles an hour ! 
Only one match ! The missionary, baring his brow, said, 
"God help us ; for thy great name's sake, help us in our 
extremity." Every heart prompted the words, and the 
lips uttered "Amen." They struck the match ; it caught 
fire, and the grass was ignited ; and as the fire swept 
round them in a circle, they marched on triumphant, ex- 
ultant, victorious. 

Our instrumentalities — Temperance Societies, Bands 
of Hope, Sons of Temperance, Good Templars, whatever 
they may be — are as feeble as that one match. Before 
we put forth our efforts, then, let us reverently ask God 
to help us for his great name's sake ; and we, with those 
we have worked for, shall stand in the circle unharmed 
while the flames play away at the distance — and we stand 
saved, not by our own efforts alone, but by our own 
efforts blessed and acknowledged by him in whose hands 
are the destinies of all men. 

John B. Gough. 



DIALOGUES. 



DIALOGUES. 



Bad Company. 



Characters. — Dora, George Moore, Carrie, Mat, and 
Policeman. 

{George with cigar-stump in his fngers, as though he had 
bee?i smoking. Enter Dora and Carrie.) 

Dora. George Moore, you're a mean boy, if you are my 
cousin. How dare you tear my Temperance Banner to 
light your old cigar ? {Holds zip half of a papery 

George. I'm sure I didn't suppose it was of any use 
here ; nobody needs it in this house, for there are no 
whiskey-topers about. 

Carrie. There is a tooaeco-toper about, and that's bad 
enough, Phew ! what a horrid smell ! I do think, Mr. 
George Moore, that if you are so depraved as to find it 
absolutely necessary to smoke, you ought to go out into 
the woods, where the birds and beasts have room enough 
to get out of your way ; for I must say it is outrageous 
for you or any other person to poison the air that others 
have to breathe. 

G. Really, Carrie, you are very personal. I deny your 
assertion that I find it "absolutely necessary to smoke " ; 
for I can stop now, and never smoke another cigar. But 
I think smoking and drinking wine are harmless indul- 
gences. 

D. Harmless indulgences, indeed ! If they are, why 
do they lead so many men and boys into other and worse 
habits that end in the station-house or prison ? If you 
want us to believe that you ca?i give up cigars and wine, 

2og 



2io . Bad Company. 

prove it by joining our Band of Hope at its next meeting, 
and give up Mat Brown's society. 

G. I'm sure I'm no worse for associating with him ; 
and as for joining the Band, he would never get done 
poking fun at me if I should. 

C. A person who is ashamed to do right for fear of 
being laughed at is very weak indeed ; and I insist that 
you have learned evil ways from Mat Brown, for you 
never smoked or drank wine till you became intimate 
with him. 

{A peculiar whistle is heard at the door.) 
G. There's Mat now, whistling for me ! I'll run out and 
see him. {Goes out.) 

D. The page of my Banner is torn that has Aunt 
Julia's " Temperance Catechism " on it, and I have not 
read it yet. It vexes me to think an old cigar was light- 
ed with it. 

C. If George don't give up his bad habits and keep 
better company, we'll cut his acquaintance. 
{Enter George and Mat hastily?) 

G. {excited?) I say, girls, can't you hide Mat some- 
where ? A policeman's after him, and — 
{Enter Policeman.) 

Policeman. I guess the young ladies won't trouble 
themselves about the thieving scamp. {Takes Mat by the 
shoulder.) I advise this other }^oung fellow to keep 
better company, or he will be my next prisoner. 

G. What has he done, sir? Haven't you made a mis- 
take ? 

Mat {defiantly). Yes, he's made a big mistake ; and if 
he don't let me go, my father will make him pay for it. 
( While speaking, puts his hand suddenly and slyly into 
Geerge 's jacket-pocket. Policema7i seizes his hand and holds 
it up, with a watch in it.) 

P. Of course I've made an awful big mistake. He 
didn't steal this watch from the jeweller's — of course not ; 
and he didn't try to slip it in your pocket to make you 



New Cider. 2 1 1 

appear the thief — oh ! no. Come along, my honest youth; 
I'll risk the mistake. {Pulls him along through the door- 
way \ resisting and muttering.) Come along", and try how 
you like the lock-up. 

G. Well, well, who would have believed it? And I 
thought he was such a nice fellow! Carrie, you can pro- 
pose my name to the Band of Hope. Dora, I'll subscribe 
for The Youth's Temperance Banner, and beware of 
bad company hereafter. 

Mrs. Nellie H. Bradley, 



New Cidef^. 
Characters. — James and Dwight. 

James. Good-evening, Cousin Dwight. Glad to see 
you. Come, go around to our house ; got something par- 
ticularly nice for you. 

Dwight. Good ! What is it ? 

J. Some new cider. Uncle Harper was in town yes- 
terday, and brought us half a barrel, and it's real nice. 
Mother said you ought to have some, as you are so 
particular what you drink, and that I must ask you to 
come around for a drink. 

D. Much obliged, but I suppose you know that I do 
not drink cider ? 

J. You don't, eh ? Why, I'm sure that I've seen 
you. 

D. Where? 

J. Why — why, let me see. Why, when we were out at 
grandma's one Thanksgiving. Don't you remember? 

D. Oh ! yes ; a year ago or more. That was before I 
found out so much about cider as I know now. 

J. Found out about cider ! That's all humbug. Found 
out it was in the pledge, I suppose. 



212 New Cider. 

D. I'm pledged against it; that is reason enough why I 
should not take it. But there are very good reasons for 
pledging against it, I can tell you. 

J. Well, now, what are the reasons for a boy's not 
drinking cider ? It is nothing but apple-juice, and can't 
do anybody any harm if he should drink a gallon of it. 

D. But I've seen farmers get boozy on it. Grandma's 
hired man did when we were there. And I knew a car- 
penter once get crazy drunk on it, and chase another 
man all over tha building with an adze ; and he meant to 
hurt him, too, and he would if he had not fallen and hurt 
himself. 

J. Some quarrelsome fellow, no doubt, that just wanted 
an excuse for a fight. 

D. On the contrary, he was very peaceable when not 
poisoned out of his senses with alcohol ; and they say 
cider is one of the worst things to get drunk on. 

J. How can it be ? What is it but just apple-juice, 
anyway ? 

D. It is apple juice rotted, that is what it is. 

J. Rotted ! How do you make that out ? 

D. Why, you mash up an apple, and let it stand, and 
how long before it would rot? Well, the juice rots just 
as quick, and sometimes quicker, and then it turns into 
something else — alcohol and carbonic acid — and it is no 
more fit to drink than the rotten apples are fit to eat. 
Let it stand a while longer, and it will turn into vinegar. 

J. Well, this is not so bad. 

D. No, not so bad as the alcohol ; but you would not 
think of asking me to drink a glass of it because it is 
"only just apple-juice "? 

J. Oh ! well, I am not talking about vinegar nor rotten 
apple juice. This new cider that uncle brought us is not 
rotten at all. 

D. New cider, is it ? That is, it was new the day it was 
made, and so of course it was new the next day, for it could 
not grow old in one day. When does it get to be old ? 



New Cider. 213 

J. I suppose this is just made, or they wouldn't call 
it new. 

D. Cider is made in the fall when the apples are gath- 
ered, usually in October. So this must be three or four 

months old. [Let the time be fixed according to the 
date when the dialogue is used.] There has been time 
enough for it to rot a good deal. I have very little doubt 
there is alcohol enough in it to go to the head pretty 
quickly. 

J. It did go to my head last night, and I thought that 
was the best part of it. It makes a fellow feel real 
funny. 

D. Funny? It makes him act like a fool, and feel like 
one too, if lie only knew enough to judge of his own 
feelings. That's the way it generally serves those who 
get drunk. 

J. Get drunk ! You don't mean to say that I got 
drunk ? 

D. It seems you did, according to your own account, 
whether I say it or not. What is getting drunk but 
being poisoned by alcohol — -having it go to the head, and 
affect the brain ? 

J. Oh ! well, it didn't affect me much, only a little. 

D. Then I suppose you were drunk only a little, but 
just as surely drunk as though it was done with whiskey. 
The alcohol in the cider is the same as that in the 
whiskey, and many a drunkard has begun on cider when 
a boy. You would better look out for yourself. 

J. All that fuss about a little apple-juice ! 

D. I'm not so bewitched after apple-juice that I'll 
travel that road after it, and take it after it is rotten. 
Please make my compliments to Aunt Kate, and tell her 
that, when I am thirsty, I have plenty of things to drink 
that are better and safer than rotten apple-juice. 

Aunt Julia. 



214 Dialogue on Smoking. 



Dialogue on Smoking. 
Characters. — Willie and Frank. 

Willie. See here, Frank, I hear a bad report about you* 

Frank. About me ! Why, what have I been doing? 

W. I hear you have been smoking. 

F, That's a false report ; but I can tell you who has. 

W. Well, I am glad you have not, and I hope none of 
our temperance band have. 

F. Yes. I saw Dan Simpleton strutting about the 
other day, puffing a cigar, and trying to swell up to man- 
like dimensions, 

W. He ought to be ashamed. What does he do it 
for? 

F. Oh ! because he sees men do it, I suppose. 

W. Yes ; but men drink rum, and swear, and do other 
bad things. 

F. Well, he sees other boys do it, and a good many of 
them too. 

W. Does he see any boys smoke who do not swear, 
strut about on Sunday, and do other like things too ? 

F. That's a hard question ; but he thinks it makes him 
look big, and what's the harm in trying to get big ? 

W. No harm, perhaps, but I guess a cigar don't help 
much. I think it rather shows an empty garret, or one 
in which there is not much but smoke. 

F. Well, Dan did say it made him light-headed and 
everything look green. 

W. You know green glasses make things look that 
way, but the green is in the glasses. 

F. Yes, and I suppose the green was in Dan's head, too, 

W. And you may set it down as a rule that the head 
of a boy who puffs cigars don't need to be made any 
lighter or greener either. 



His Worst Enemy. 2 1 5 



His Worst Enemy. 
Characters. — Walter and Charles. 

Walter. Did you hear that terrible racket last night, 
Charley ? 

Charles. No ; takes a good deal to wake me up. What 
was the matter ? 

W. Why, Captain George had one of his worst times — 
regular crazy drunk ; you can't think how he went on, 

C. What did he do? 

W. Enough, I should think, to make him ashamed to 
show himself among decent folks. 

C. Did you get scared any ? 

W. Some. You see it was along after midnight, when 
I woke all of a sudden. 1 thought iirst there must be a 
fire ; then I heard some one hollering. I jumped up, and, 
looking out of the window, I could just see a man on 
horseback riding down the stone sidewalk. Hearing 
Some one down-stairs, I went down and found father, 
\vho had been waked by the noise. He said it was Cap- 
tain George. 

C. What was he yelling about? 

W. Oh ! he didn't know what he was doing — all out 
of his head. He seemed to think he was down South 
fighting the rebs. He was ordering his men into posi- 
tion, and driving about terribly excited, as if he was 
right in a battle. I felt sorry for the poor old horse, for 
he whacked him about cruelly. 

C. Did any one try to stop him ? 

VV. Yes, father and two or three of the neighbors 
after a while got him off the horse, and took him home. 

C. Captain George always seems such a kind, pleasant 
man when he is sober, but he acts so that no one cares 
anything for him. Strange that he will drink so ! 



216 His Worst Enemy. 

W. If he had signed the pledge, as we boys have, and 
always kept it, he might have been one of the first men 
in town. 

C. He don't look or act worth much now. Every one 
says he is fast digging for himself a drunkard's grave. 

W. What I saw last night and heard this morning, 
Charlie, has made me hate rum worse than ever before. 
I am going to love our Temperance Society, and work 
harder for it than I have done. 

C. You told me what you saw last night; what was it 
you heard this morning that has made you so excited on 
the temperance question ? 

W. When I came to breakfast, I saw that mother had 
been crying, and was very quiet and sad. After prayers, 
we sat down by the window talking over Captain George's 
strange actions. Then she told me all about him — what a 
beautiful boy he was, how ever}^ one loved and petted him ; 
then he went away to school, bad associates led him into 
bad habits, smoking and drinking just a little. When he 
came home, folks saw he was changed. When the war 
broke out, he went into the army, fought well for his 
country, but he let his worst enemy — rum— conquer him. 

C. What a sad story ! I am glad that we can associate 
with temperance boys and girls. We must work to get 
all we can in with us. 

W. Yes, for one thing is certain — if we never touch 
anything that intoxicates, we shall not be drunkards, 
going about the streets despised by all, without mind, 
influence, or character. 

C. Yes, as our teacher says, we want to get in the way 
that leads to the springs of living waters, then we shall 
keep far away from the path that goes d.own to the 
drunkard's grave. E. B. S. 



The Fountain cuul the StilL 217 



The Fountain and the Still. 
Characters. — Fountain* Still and Drunkard. 

Fountain. I am the Fountain, Still. I'm the Still, 

F. My mission's for good. S. And mine's not ill, 

F. I sparkle in gems of morning dew. 

S. And I in the wine-cup's ruddy hue, 

F. I cool the poor man's heated brow, 

When from his daily toil returning, 

S. I drown his cares in the rich, red flow 

Of the ruby wine. F. 'Tis the cup of burning, 
I'm queen of the mountain-brooks! 

S. And I 
Rule o'er the streams that dash foaming by 
From yon distillery's heart of fire. 
Onward they flow, and never tire; 
Leaping on high, their spray they fling, 
And they laugh as they come, and merrily sing. 

F. My throne is the top of yon mountain high, 
And those gorgeous clouds my canopy ; 
My sceptre, the rainbow; my crown, the spray; 
Its pearls are the devvdrops ; the first bright ray 
Of the morning sun, as he wheels his car 
Upward through the ethereal blue, 
Decks me with gems more beautiful far 
Than all the splendor that earth e'er knew. 

S. In yon gilded palace I hold my court, 

Where the song and jest go merrily round ; 

Where the wine-cup sparkles, and mirth and sport 

Hold sway till the midnight air resounds. 

My wand of power is a goblet bright, 

And all bow before its magic might ; 

A vine-leaf wreath on my brow I bear, 

And its purple clusters for gems I wear. 



2l8 The Fountain and the SfiiL 

F. Dashing down the hillside, 

Rippling through the meadows, 
Gliding through the forests 

In sunshine and in shadows; 
Ever moving onward 

With its mellow laughter, 
Sparkling, foaming, gushing, 
Comes the crystal water, 
S. Full of life and beauty, 

Blushing the rose's hue, 
Chasing the cares of the weary 

With its cup of heavenly dew ; 
Changing sorrow to gladness, 

Bringing joy divine, 
Giver of bliss immortal, 
Glitters the ruddy wine. 
P. Deep within the bosom of the earth. 
Hidden far from mortal sight, 
In a fairy grotto I had my birth. 

Drop by drop, like diamonds bright, 
Fell the dewy gems j the light 
From a hundred fairy lamps shone round* 
Each lamp was a jewel; in silence profound 
They waited the hour when, freed from the thrall 

Of my elfin prison-house, merry and clear, 
I sprang forth into light on the mountain tall, 

Where to earthly ken I first appear 
In a mimic torrent adown the steep. 
O'er my rocky bed my course I keep ; 
A rippling brook down the mountain-side, 
A gliding stream through the meadows wide, 
A mighty river, hastening on, 
Till at ocean's bounds the goal h won. 
S. From the time when our second father rode 
On the heaving bosom of the flood, 
My life-giving cup has banished care, 
With its sparkling nectar, rich and rare* 



The Fountain and the Still. 219 

The golden beams of the sun so bright 
Deck in beauty the wine. 

[Enter a drunkard.] 

Drunk, (hie) It made me tight. 
F. Behold yon wretched man ! With faltering tread 
He staggers on his way; trembling and slow 
lie walks ; his blinded eyes and aching head 
Refuse to point the path. Drunk, (hie) I guess 
that's so. 
S. Tis not my fault if some weak brains 

Yield to the power that lies within the bowl, 
And quaff too deep its contents, till the soul 
Awhile forgets its earthly cares and pains — 
D. And gets (hie) most gloriously drunk, (hie) and when 
He tries to (hie) walk, the path an't wide enough, 

and then 
The ground comes up to meet him, and he goes 
To meet (hie) the ground ; falls down, and (hie) 
barks his nose. 
F. Poor victim of the tempter's fatal power! 

Break off thy chains ; no longer shrink and cower 
Beneath that tyrant's fascinating eye. 
Here, sign the pledge, and in temptation's hour 
Twill give you strength to make the monster fly. 
S. I love not scenes of misery and woe ; 

My office 'tis to comfort man, not pain ; 
And if by chance unhappiness should strew 

The drunkard's path, sure I'm not to blame. 
But since my presence is unwelcome here, 
I'll go ; some more congenial sphere 
I'll find, where joy and happiness abound. [Exit. 
D. And (hie) where poor drunken fools like me (hie) 

an't found. 
F. Oh ! will you heed my warning voice, and break the 
fatal spell ? 
Say, will you sign this talisman ? The songs of 
joy will swell 



220 The Fountain and the Still. 

From angel tongues in concord sweet around the 

throne above. 
It matters not how fallen you are; remember "God 

is love." 
Brother— Drunk. What ! call me brother ! Speak 

not that hallowed name 
To one so base, so low, deep sunk in sin and 

shame. 
Tis the first word of kindness I've heard this 

many a year. 
It brings to memory one that's gone — a much-loved 

sister dear. 
Oh ! I remember well, too well, the evening that 

she died. 
The sun was setting in the west ; she called me 

to her side, 
And made me promise on my knees, before her 

spirit fled, 
That I would meet her there, in heaven above ; 

she said 
She saw the angels waiting to carry her away, 
And with a smile upon her lip, she left her house 

of clay, 
To join her waiting friends in that bright world 

of love, 
Where pain and sorrow are no more ; and left me 

here to rove, 
Friendless and homeless, through the dreary earth. 
The tempter found me, and I fell an easy prey. 
I drank to drown my sorrow ; swiftly I trod the 

That leads to the drunkard's grave. Oh ! can I ever 

know 
Again the joy that once I knew? And is there 

here below 
Hope for the fallen one, who, lost in sin and 

dark despair, 



What Rum will Do. 221 

Is rushing onward to his doom without a thought 

or care? 
F. Yes, yes, there's mercy still for you ; break from 

your fetters ! Lo, 
The angels wait in silence, turning here below 
Their anxious looks ; from the high battlements 

of heaven 
They watch the scene. Oh ! may a life long given 
To wickedness be blest by such a close 
As may atone for guilt that's past and bring a 

blest repose. 
D. Give me the paper ; let me sign the pledge. [Signs 

his 7iame.\ And now 
Heaven grant me aid, God give me strength, to 

keep this solemn vow. 
Both. And may our heavenly Parent grant his bless- 
ing on this hour, 
When an immortal soul is saved from out the 

tempter's power. 

George C. Crane, in Zion's Herald. 



What Rum Will Do. 

For Five Characters. 

First Voice, 
Rum will scorch and sear the brain, 
Rum will mad the heart with pain, 
Rum will bloat the flesh with fire, 
And eternal thirst inspire. 

Second Voice. 
Rum will clothe with rags your back, 
Make you walk a crooked track, 
Change your meat to naked bones, 
And to wrath your gentle tones. 



222 Be Kind to the Drunkard. 

Third Voice. 

Rum will rob the head of sense, 
Rum will rob the purse of pence, 
Rum will rob the mouth of food, 
And the soul of heavenly good. 

Fourth Voice. 

Rum the jails with men will fill, 
And the dungeon's gloomy cell ; 
It rouses passion's deadly hate, 
And pours its curses o'er the state. 

Fifth Voice. 

Rum the Christian's love will cool, 
Make him break the golden rule, 
Bind his soul to error's bands, 
And to evil turn his hands. 

All Together in Concert. 

This maddening drink we will not take, 
Our solemn pledge we will not break ; 
O Father ! keep us by thy hand, 
And guard from sin this youthful band. 



Be Kind to the Drunkard. 
Characters.— Matthew and Stephen. 

{Matthew reading.) 

Stephen {enters whistling). O you old book-worm ! 
you've lost some jolly fun by not going out with us 
boys. 

Mat. {looking up). What kind of fun ? 

S. Well, I don't mind telling you, if you'll ask me to 
take a seat. 



Be Kind to t/ie Drunkard. 223 

M. {rising and placing a chair). Do be seated, Mr. 
Clayton. 

S. (seating himself)* We found a chap lying out by the 
school-fence as drunk as a dog — 

M. Stop a bit ! Did you ever see a dog drunk ? 

S. Of course not; but you know very well what I 
mean. 

M. I suppose you wish to convey the impression that 
he was very drunk ? 

S. Yes. You are so fussy, Mat. Well, we tickled his 
ears with straws, and he rolled over and grunted like a 
hog; then we put his hat on inside out, and pulled his 
hair through the holes in the crown ; then we blacked 
his nose with burnt cork, and painted his cheeks yellow 
and his chin blue. Oh 3 he was the most comical picture 
you ever saw ; I burst two buttons off my vest laughing 
at him. 

M. Stephen, I'm ashamed of you ! You'll keep the 
company of those good-for-nothing boys until you will 
get into serious trouble. 

S. Why, what harm did we do ? We only teased him 
without hurting him. 

M. It is wrong to torment or ridicule any one who is 
unfortunate ; and I hope you will never do it again. But 
where is the poor fellow now ? 

S. I did not finish. We got an old piece of matting, 
and were trying to roll him up in it, when he scrambled 
on to his feet and swore till the air was blue, and then 
tumbled over again. Just then a man suddenly came 
round the corner, and threatened to cane us if we did 
not leave ; and he would have done it, too, for his cane 
was big and his arm was strong. 

M. I wish he had caned you all soundly. What hap- 
pened next ? 

S. I don't like to tell you, Mat ; but you'll be sure to 
hear of it, so I might as well out with it. You see that 
{takes handkerchief from his pocket and holds it up, all 



224 Be Kind to the Drunkard. 

streaked and spotted with black and yellow). Well, as I 
started to run with the rest, he caught me, pulled me 
along to the hydrant, and made me get this wet and wash 
the drunken fellow's face. 1 tell you, I was mad enougb 
to bite them both. 

M. Served you just right. I guess that was more than 
you bargained for. What next ? 

S. The cold water sobered the man some ; for he got 
up, and I took my leave. But I've got news for you. 
Mamma received a letter informing us that Uncle Ste- 
phen Parker had returned from Europe, and was coming 
to stay at our house for a month ; everything has been 
turned topsy-turvy, and lots of new things bought. 

M. Why do they make so much extra preparation for 
a man they have never seen ? 

S. Don't you know ? He is your uncle as well as mine ; 
but I was named for him, and, though he has never seen 
me, he has said that he intends to do something hand- 
some for me ; he is very rich, and has no family. Mamma 
gave me a good lecture this morning in regard to my 
behavior ; for he is very queer about some things. 

M. And so Uncle Parker is corning at last ? How I do 
wish we were not so poor ; for I know mother would like 
to have him stay with us. But if be is rich, he has been 
used to much better than we can afford ; and your folks 
are fixed so nicely he will be very comfortable there. 

S. Of course he will I And now I must run home, and 
see if everything is ready. Good-by. (Runs out.) 

M. {walking slowly back and forth). This is news 
indeed \ It does seem as though wrought to have what- 
ever Uncle Parker can spare ; for we have a hard strug- 
gle to get along since father died. But I suppose it is all 
right. I am thankful mother has the promise of better 
pay for her sewing; she ought to get as much again. I 
expect that last job is ready for me to take home, {Goes 
out.) 



Be Kind to the Drunkard. 225 

Scene II. 

{Mat. and Stephen enter from opposite sides, if possible?) 

M. {joyfully). I've seen Uncle Parker, Stephen ! 

S. {angrily). And so have I ; but tell me quickly how 
you happened to walk into his good graces just as /walk- 
ed out. 

M. All I know about it is just this : After you left 
yesterday, I started to carry home mother's sewing, and 
I came across a drunken man, who, I suppose, was the 
one you were telling about. As he staggered across a 
gutter, he fell and cut his head. I felt sorry for him, and 
washed off the blood, and tried to help him up; but I was 
giving it up, when some one behind me said, " Who is 
that you are trying to help?" And turning, I saw the 
man with the cane. I told him I did not know, and he 
helped the man to get up ; and then his wife, who had 
been looking for him, came and led him away. The man 
with the cane then asked me my name, and, when I told 
him, he exclaimed, " My dear boy, I am your Uncle Par- 
ker !" He then went home with me, and talked a long 
time with mother, after which he went to your house. 

S. Yes, he walked in unexpectedly; and, after a talk 
with mother and sister, enquired for me. I heard mother 
call, and rushed in like a steam-engine, not knowing who 
was there. But I stopped suddenly ; for there was the 
man with the cane, and he rose up and frowned awfully. 
M This my nephew Stephen ? Impossible ! " I heard this 
much, and got out as fast as my feet would take me. To 
think that he of all men should catch me at that unlucky 
sport ! (Stamps round the stage with energy.) 

M. I've told you often that you would get into trouble, 
Steve. But I did not finish. Uncle Parker has bought 
a beautiful house, and we are to live with him. Oh ! I am 
so glad mother will have a nice home, and time to rest 
And only think, Stephen, he is going to send me to 
college I 



226 Fast Colors. 

S. Well, I know my cake is all dough, Mat; but you 
deserve your good luck, and I'm glad it has come. As 
for me, I have learned a lesson I shall not forget ; hence- 
forth I shall be kind to the poor drunkard, and no one 
shall have cause to complain of my conduct in the future. 

Mrs. Nellie H. Bradley. 



Fast Colors. 



Three Characters. — Annte, a little girl, is busy painting 
a box or piece of wood red. Peter has before hint a glass 
containing a liquid the color of beer, into which he dips his 
pocket-handkerchief. George, an acquaintance. 

Annie. How do you get on with your dyeing, Peter? 

Peter. I don't get on at all ; it don't seem to get very 
red ! How does yours come on, Annie ? 

A. Oh ! I'm getting on famously ! I shall soon have 
the wood all covered with red ! 

P. How very fond you are of painting, Annie ! 

A. Yes, and how very fond of dyeing you are, Peter ! 

P. Oh ! I thought red was a nice color for a hand- 
kerchief: it won't show the dirt so quick. Mother says I 
dirty them so fast, and I wanted a red one like grandpa's. 

A. And I only thought red would be a nice brigh t 
color for my work, you see. 

{Enter George*) 

George. Hallo ! Annie, what are you doing? 

A. I'm painting ; don't you see ? 

G. And why red, of all colors ? 

A. Because I consider it a very fast color. 

G. And why do you think it is particularly u fast " ? 

A. Because Deacon Smith's nose is red, and his color 
never washes out ; mother says it never will ! 

G. That is because he swallows so much rum, Annie ! 



Fust Colors. 227 

A. Yes; and my mother says she once knew a little 
boy who was on hoard a vessel during a storm ! 

G. Well, and what of that? 

A, Why, ne was laughing outright, whilst everybody 
else expected the vessel would go down every moment. 

G. That was curious conduct ! 

A. Yes, so said the mate ; and after the storm was over, 
he went to the boy, and asked him what he meant by 
such giggling — at such a time, too ! 

G. And what did the boy answer? 

A. Why, the mate had a very red nose, and the little 
boy, looking at him, said, ki Please, sir, I was just think- 
ing what a fizz your nose would make if we were all 
drowned, and it once touched the water ! " 

G. Ha! ha! very good! And it is to be hoped that 
the lesson did the mate some good. 

P. Yes, because red noses only come by drinking, 
'cause I heard that at the Band of Hope meeting. 

G. And pray what are you doing, Peter ? I can easily 
understand Annie; but what in the world is the use of 
your continually dipping your handkerchief in the glass 
before you ? 

P. Oh ! it's a good deal of use, I can tell you. 

G. And what have you got in the glass ? 

P. Oh ! I've got a good half-pint of beer. 

G. Beer? Dear me ! Why, you surprise me ! Are you 
not a member of the Band of Hope ? 

P. Of course I am ! I've got a pledge, bless you ! 

G. Bless yotc as well, then ! But what is your object 
in dipping all the time, Peter? 

P. I want to dye this handkerchief red ! 

G. With beer? Why, it can't be done, child ! 

P. But it is done sometimes, I know ! 

G. Dye red by the aid of beer? 

P. Yes, sir, look at the drunkard's face! 

G. Well, that's red enough usually, I must confess ! 

P. It's red as can be ! Now if I can only dye my 



238 Buy Your Own Goose. 

handkerchief half so red as his face is, it will be a nice 
color, won't it? 

G. It may be ; but you won't be able to do it. 

P. It looks very likely. But the dye is weak, I fear ! 

G. It is for that purpose ; for the other purpose it is so 
strong that it has killed thousands of men who had 
almost the strength of a Samson. 

P. Then you think beer won't dye my handkerchief 
red ? 

G. I'm certain of it \ But I'm glad both of you know 
the effects of intoxicating drinks ; certainly upon the 
human face they do produce " fast colors " ! 



Buy Your Own Goose. 

Characters. — Landlord, Eli Baxter, John Mason, Mrs. 
Baxter and two Daughters ; John Case, errand-boy ; Mar- 
ketman or grocer 1 s messenger. 

Landlord. Let's see ; it's just four weeks to Christ- 
mas. What do you say, gentlemen, to another Goose 
Club? 

Mason. All right ! How will you work it? 

L. Well, each member will pay ten cents a day, and 
the twentieth day will draw a fine fat goose and a bottle 
of gin. Here's the paper. I'd be glad to get your names 
to head the list. What say you, Mr. Baxter ? 

Baxter. I guess you must count me out this time, 
landlord. I'm thinking I've been in the goose business 
long enough. 

M. That's rich ! Baxter's cut his wisdom teeth all at 
once. 

B. Perhaps it wouldn't harm some others to cut theirs, 
too. If you join this club, you'll have to come every day 
to pay the ten cents, and the landlord won't expect you 



Buy Your Owyi Goose. 229 

to be so mean as not to "wet your whistle " for the good 
of the house. You'll pay well for the goose before you 
eat it, I reckon. 

L. Well, Baxter, you needn't interfere with my busi- 
ness. If you don't choose to join, and are so wise and 
clever all at once, go and buy your own goose. 

B. I'll take your advice. So not another drop this 
side of Christmas. 

L. As you like ; but don't come meddling with me. 
Indeed, the quicker you're gone, the better. 

B. {rising to go). Rather short with as good a cus- 
tomer as I have been ! Look, boys, landlord don't care 
a f\g for us, so he can pluck us to feather his own nest. 
But he sha'n't pluck me. I'll take his good advice instead 
of grog, and "buy my own goose. " 

Scene II. 

(In Baxter s house. Mother and two Daughters, Jane and 
Emma, in pinching poverty^) 

Jane. Ah ! mother, I don't want to go to school any 
more. 

Mother. Why not, my child ? 

J. The girls keep talking about Christmas ard what 
good times they will have. They expect nice presents 
and such good dinners, turkeys, pies, and cakes. It 
made my mouth water to hear of them. I couldn't help 
crying to think of our home, and then I heard Mary Grey 
whisper, "Poor thing! her father's a drunkard, and 
spends his money at the tavern, and her poor mother 
can't give her any good things." I don't want to go to 
school again. 

Emma. Nor I. But why can't we have a pudding this 
year ? We did last. Oh ! it was so good. 

M. Last year I had work. But good Mrs. Ward is 
gone, and I can't get my dear girls a Christmas dinner 
this year. 



230 Buy Your Own Goose, 

J. Why will father drink so much and spend his 
money so ? 

M. I think he would leave off if the tavern-keeper did 
not keep enticing him on. The man gets up clubs and 
dances, and then calls father mean if he won't join. 
Last year he got up a goose club. Each man paid ten 
cents every day, and at the end of twenty days was to 
have a goose ; but when the time came, father owed more 
than the goose was worth, and the man kept it for his 
pay. If the grog-shop could be shut up, I could hope 
that my dear girls could have a merry Christmas again, 
and a dear father too. 

Scene III. 
{Baxter in the street ', carrying a basket.) 

B. (to himself). It's awkward carrying this basket 
myself. The fact is, 1 have not done the fair thing by 
poor Lizzie and the children. If I can find a boy, I'll 
play a little trick. Well, sure enough, there comes John 
Case. He's a trusty fellow. Hallo ! John, just come 
over here. 

John. What's up now, Mr. Baxter? 

B. Well, you see, I haven't been in the habit of carry- 
ing home such baskets as this, and it's awkward busi- 
ness to begin. But now I haven't been to the tavern for 
four weeks, so I've just bought a fine goose, with flour, 
sugar, tea, and all the fixings. Here's ten cents. Just 
take this basket to No. 6, opposite the third lamp-post 
yonder. Say it's for Mrs. Baxter, and if she won't take it 
in, drop it at her feet, and run back. If you'll do it up 
clever, I'll give you ten cents more. {Boy runs.) 

B. (to himself). I'll just peek a little. There, she won't 
take it. Poor Lizzie ! she thinks there's nothing good 
for her. I've been a wretch ! God helping me, I'll fill 
that woman's heart with joy again before I die.' There, 
he's coming. 



Buy You?- Own Goose. 231 

J. She said it wasn't for her, and told me to go to 
another Baxter's, round the corner. But I said 1 wasn't 
going to run all over the parish, and dropped the basket. 

H. Well done ! There's your money. 

J. Thank you, sir. I'll buy a Christmas toy for sissie 
Jane, 

Scene IV. 
{Baxter s home. Wife and Girls as before^) 

Jane. If only we could have such a basket ! 

Emma. There, father's coming. I hear his steps. (Comes 
in, Jiits his foot against the basket in the entry.) 

Baxter. What's here for folks to stumble over? 

Mrs. B. A boy left a basket here by mistake. I told 
him it wasn't for us, but the heedless fellow bolted off. 

B. What's in it? 

J. Oh I a (Lie, fat goose* and lots of good things. 

E. Why can't we have such things, father? Mother 
says we have nothing for Christmas. 

J. There, somebody knocks. 

Mrs. B. Hush 3 Let me go to the door. 

Marketman. Is this Mrs. Eli Baxter? 

Mrs. B. Yes, 

M. Here is a lot of apples and vegetables for you. 

Mrs. B. There's some mistake; they are not for me. 

M. Here 'tis on this paper — Mrs. Eli Baxter, No. 6 
Poverty Lane. 

Mrs. B. Well, now. our house must be bewitched to- 
night. 

B. (calls out). Bring them in, sir. Take all that comes, 
I say. (Marketman goes.) 

Mrs. B. What can it all mean ? 

B. It means a merry Christmas, Lizzie, for you and me 
and the girls. I haven't done as I should by you and the 
girls ; but four weeks ago I signed the pledge ; since then 
not a drop for liquor, but all for you. Here, it is all paid 



232 The Pump and the Tavern. 

for. There's ten dollars besides. Forgive me, if you can, 
and pray for me, and hereafter I'll buy my own goose 
instead of the landlord's. 



The Pump and the Tavern 

Characters. — Pump, Tavern, Drunkard 's Wife, Public 
Opinion, Legislation. 

Pump. My name is Pump. There is nothing extraor- 
dinary in my appearance, it is true : neither is there any- 
thing very elegant in my structure ; but this I may say 
of myself: I am a useful member of society; I am the 
friend of every man, woman, and child ; the very dogs in 
the street regard me as their benefactor. I said I was 
useful. Well, it would require the tongue of a lawyer 
and the eloquence of an orator justly to describe in how 
many ways I am serviceable. I am used in public and 
private, in summer and in winter, by people of every 
rank and condition in life. There is not a branch of 
industry, or a department in science or art, with which I 
am not directly or indirectly connected. Where would 
be the world-famed cotton and woolen fabrics, were I 
not to assist in the bleaching and dyeing processes ? 
Where would be the extensive traffic on our railwayj, 
were not my element forced into the locomotive-boiler and 
generated into steam ? Where would be all the treasures 
of literature, were I not to assist in the manufacture of 
paper ? Where would be all the necessaries and luxuries 
of life, were not my element to descend in fertilizing 
showers upon waving corn fields and teeming orchards? 
Where would be all the beauties and charms of nature, 
the colors of the rainbow, the perfume and tints of 
flowers, the warbling of birds, the splendor of landscape ; 
in short, what would be the — [Enter Tavern.} 



The Pump and the Tavern. 233 

Tavern. Oh! ah! yes! Mow are you, Mr. Pump? 
Haven't seen you I don't care when. {Attempts to shake 
uis.) 

P. \ T o, no ; let every rogue shake his own hand. 

T. {tries again). Shake hands, old fellow, with your 
friend, Mr. Tavern. 

1\ Friend ! How can I recognize a friend in one of the 
greatest foes to human happiness? You are the prolific 
source of crime, pauperism, insanity, and death ; you 
are the enemy of the church and the Sabbath-school ; 
you hinder every benevolent and philanthropic move- 
ment ; you retard all intellectual, social, and moral ad- 
vancement ; you are — 

T. Stay, stay ; I cannot, I will not suffer you thus to 
insult me. 

P. You are the — 

T. I tell you 1 cannot let you proceed further until 
you hear me vindicate my character. I have been im- 
peached most unjustly by young and old in these modern 
times. Now, I mean to say that I am a public benefactor 
[a voice cries "Public nuisance/"]. What was that, Mr. 
Pump ? 

P. Why, the very boys in the street are calling you a 
public nuisance. 

T. I suppose these are some of your Band of Hope 
friends. Why don't you teach them to respect their 
superiors ? 

(Enter Drunkard 's Wife.) 

Drunkard's Wife. Respect you ! Who can respect 
those who take the bread out of the children's mouths 
and the clothes from their backs? 

T. Do I ask your husband to spend his money with 
me ? 

D. W. No, Mr. Tavern, but you -do far worse ; you in- 
sinuate that you are his friend. 

T. Of course I am ! 

P. Let the poor woman speak. 



234 The Pump and the Tavern. 

D. W. You allure him with gilded rooms and fine 
music ; but who will compensate me for the injury I sus- 
tain from you ? 

T. If your husband is fool enough to spend his money 
Kith me, all I can say is — that — ah ! — 

P. That he is a fool. 

T. Did I call her husband a fool ? 

D. W. Yes, you did {sobs) ; I heard you. 

T. Well, I beg your pardon ; I meant to say that — ah ! — 

P. The fact is, you can say nothing in your own de- 
fence, for so long as you are allowed to exist these dire- 
ful consequences must follow ; but let me warn you that 
all my temperance friends are now combined for your 
entire suppression and overthrow. 

T. My overthrow ! Ha ! ha ! How absurd to talk 
about demolishing one of the oldest, the strongest, the 
most elegant, useful, and benevolent institutions in the 
country ! 

D. W. Benevolent ! For shame, sir ! 

T. Do I not furnish a spacious room for your husband's 
comfort? Do I not seek to refine his taste by exhibiting 
on my walls the paintings of great artists? Do I not 
endeavor to dispel his sorrow and brighten his imagina- 
tion with classical music, both vocal and instrumental, 
not to mention the dazzling splendor of my mirrors and 
chandeliers ? Can you offer such good things for your 
husband at his own home? 

D. W. God knows I cannot while he leaves his money 
with you, Mr. Tavern. {Goes otit crying?) 

T. I cannot tell what that woman is crying for. 

P. Ah ! if you could witness all the desolate homes, 
the starving children, and broken-hearted mothers, made 
so by you, you would understand what she is crying for. 

T. Have I not said that I do not compel people to 
enter my house ? If people will drink until reason is 
dethroned, until the ties of nature and affection are 
severed, and the body laid prostrate in disease and 



The Pump and the Tavern. 235 

wretchedness, what is it to me ? It is their own deliber- 
ate act. 

{Enter Public Opinion.) 

Public Opinion. My name is Public Opinion. I have 
been reflecting upon the services which you two gentle- 
men render to my country. You, Mr. Pump, have my 
entire approbation ; you daily and hourly contribute to 
the happiness and prosperity of my people. Your ele- 
ment sweeps in the foaming ocean, and bears upon its 
bosom the wealth of nations. Your element circulates 
in clouds, and descends in showers that fertilize the 
soil and invigorate all vegetable life. Without your ele- 
ment the luxuries and necessaries of life could not be 
produced, no process of manufacture completed, no re- 
sult in science or art obtained ; in short, Mr. Pump, life 
itself would become extinct and creation a blank were it 
not for your element. You have been a faithful old 
friend ; henceforth your name shall be Fountain. You 
shall stand in the most fashionable and public streets 
and squares in my country. You shall have a most ele- 
gant appearance, and all my people shall regard you as 
a public benefactor. 

P. I am flattered by the compliment, sir. 

T. Have you not one word of commendation tor me, 
Mr. Public Opinion ? 

P. O. You ! you heartless villain ! You, whose hand 
is against every man ! You, the betrayer of my chil- 
dren, the foe of commerce, the enemy of social and 
religious progress, the distributer of crime, disease, 
1 poverty, insanity, and death ! I have been a long time 
' trying to restrain you with gentle measures, but to no 
purpose. Every day I learn from my friend, the public 
press, that your outrages upon society are more frequent 
and more violent than ever. My mind is fully made 
up ! 

T. Spare me ! spare me ! Mr. Public Opinion. 

P. O. Not for another day. I will call in my officer at 



236 Independence. 

once, and order your execution. {Calls in a loud voice for 
Legislation.) 

{Enter Legislation?^ 

P. O. Officer, this person must be taken to the jail. 
I will sign his death-warrant at six o'clock to-day. No 
further trial is needed. My voice is law. Seize him, and 
do your duty \ 

(Z. seizes him by the collar, and drags him off. Exit.) 



Independence. 

Characters. — Susie and Nellie. 

Susie. Then you would really wish to deprive all young 
men of a social glass of wine, and bind them down to 
the contracted limits of a temperance pledge ? 

Nellie. I do wish to see all our young men and women 
become pledged t > total abstinence. I do not think 
any one safe while indulging even in wine-drinking. I 
know many who drank good wine a few years ago that 
now drink poor whiskey. 

S. Oh ! I have no patience with whiskey-drinkers, but 
I do like to see young men independent, and dare to 
take a glass of wine when they wish to. What would 
the eagle say to having his wings clipped ? 

N. I saw one of your independent young men this 
morning ; but, with all his independence, he was unable to 
arise from the gutter (into which he had fallen) without 
assistance. 

S. That was shocking ! He was no doubt a miserable 
drunkard, which is altogether different from merely 
taking a glass of wine. You know that wine has been 
used by all, or nearly all, of our best men, the greatest 
names in our country's history. You recollect what tha 
poet says, 

11 Drink till the moon goes down." 



Independence, ' 237 

N. I think it would be an improvement to say, Drink 
till themselves go down. 

S. Oh ! 1 see this temperance whirlwind has turned 
your brain ; you will come to your senses by-and-by, and 
learn that a young man is something less than a mur- 
derer if he does drink a glass of wine now and then. 
There is but a small chance of your ever getting a hus- 
band, if harmless wine-drinking is to prove an obstacle. 

N. Neither do I wish to get one with the first step 
taken to the drunkard's grave. Would you cross the 
Atlantic if you were told the noble ship in which you 
were to sail was known to be a little leaky, but might 
carry you safely to old England's shore? Would you not 
prefer to always stay at home rather than trust your 
life to a treacherous craft that might, before you had 
half reached your journey's end, sink you beneath the 
boiling wave ? No, never will I unite my destiny with 
one who is in the habit of drinking wine. Total absti- 
nence or no husband is my motto. 

S. I am sure I do not want a drunkard for a husband ; 
and if I thought that he would ever drink anything 
stronger than wine, I would use all my influence to in- 
duce him to sign the pledge, and keep it too. 

N. Oh ! do use your influence in persuading all to join 
the Lodge or Division ; there is no safety elsewhere. 
Show by your own example that your heart is in the 
cause, and that wine-bibbing finds no favor in your 
eyes. 

S. But you really do not think I am in danger? I never 
drank a glass of wine in my life. Would you have me 
join the division, and mix my name with the low and 
degraded ? 

N. No false pride should prevent us from doing our 
duty, neither should we refuse to aid a reforming move- 
ment simply because it will not benefit us. Let us use 
all our influence, speak boldly and fearlessly when occa- 
sion requires us to do so. Our brothers are in danger; 



238 Dialogue on using Tobacco. 

our dear friends are in danger ; and we are in danger. Let 
us not deal with the arrows of death, lest those arrows 
pierce our own hearts at last. 

S. Why, you alarm me ; everything seems to be in- 
toxicated that I look at ; every post, pillar, man, and 
beast has a zigzag motion. I will fly into the ark of 
safety, join your division, and adopt your motto. 



Dialogue on using Tobacco. 

Characters. — Joseph and Samuel. 

Joseph, Hallo, Sam ! where now? 

Samuel. I'm going down to the Common to play ball. 
Don't you want to go ? 

J. Yes ; I've done my stint, and father says I may now 
go where I please. 

S. Give me a chew of tobacco, Joe. 

J. Tobacco ! I haven't any ; I don't use it. 

S. Don't use it ? What a fool ! You'll not be a man till 
you do. 

J. I shall not be a man if I do, that's certain. Who 
advised you to use it ? 

S. Jim Sanders. 

J. Jim Sanders? I'm sorry you wish to follow his 
example. 

S. Why? 

J. Jim Sanders, you know, is a worthless fellow. Hd 
uses profane language, seeks mean company, and spends 
his evenings at grog-shops, when he ought to be at home 
at work or perusing his books. Do your parents allow 
you to use tobacco ? 

S. No ; Jim Sanders worked for father a great part of 
the time during the last two years. He said I should 



Dialogue on using Tobacco. 239 

never be a man till I had learned to chew tobacco. He 
has supplied me with it till now. When I commenced 
using it, it made me sick ; I would vomit freely. Now I 
can chew it freely nearly all the time. 

J. Do your parents know it? 

S. No. 

J. How can you deceive them ? 

S. Jim supplies me with cloves. After chewing tobacco, 
I chew them; they take away the scent. Jim has left 
town for good. I am out of tobacco. I have no money 
and no chance to earn any to buy with. I don't want to 
ask father for any, because I shall be obliged to tell him 
what I want of it. 

J. Can you sincerely say you love it? 

S. No. 

J. Do you think you can abstain from it? 

S. Yes. 

J. Then do it. Which do you consider the most re- 
spectable, Mr. Clark or Jim Sanders? 

S. Mr. Clark, to be sure. 

J. Mr. Clark, you know, is a gentleman. He never 
used tobacco ; he greatly abhors it. It is used most freely 
by the base, illiterate class- The more you use it, the 
harder it will be to abstain from it. Break off now, by all 
means. It is a very low, filthy habit. Above all, avoid 
mean company. 

S< I will. I was deceived. You have convinced me of 
it. I am 'greatly obliged to you. No one knows I ever 
used tobacco but you and Jim Sanders. Don't tell any- 
body, I beg of you. 

J. Certainly not. I trust you will keep your promise 
faithfully. May I not hope you will be a temperate, 
steady, useful man ? 

D.wid W, Welch. 



240 Learning to Smoke. 



V 



EARNING TO SMOKE, 



CHARACTERS. — Herbert, sitting in a chair with a partly- 
smoked cigar hanging down at his side. Enter Clark, 

Clark. Hallo, Bert ! what are you doing up here in 
the dumps? There's a capital wind for kiting. Come 
and help me put up -my Old Abe. I've got him in splen- 
did trim. IVe been mending his wings, and sticking 
some new feathers in his tail, and I want to put him up 
from your roof. 

Herbert {feebly). Well, nobody's any objections. 

C. What's the matter with you — sick ? Turn around 
to the light, here. ( Wheeling him about, facing the audience, 
white Herbert quietly drops his cigar?) Pale as a ghost, I 
declare I What have you been doing? 

H. Nothing. But I don't feel quite right, that's a 
fact. 

C. Well, you lock as flat as if you'd been learning to 
smoke tobacco, and {snuffing the air) I think I smell it. 
Come now, own up. You've been smoking. 

H. Oh ! nonsense. 

C. Yes, " nonsense "; but you don't deny it. That's 
pretty business ; poisoning yourself with that filthy stuff, 
and making yourself a monkey of a mimic! 

H. A monkey, indeed ! What are you talking about ? 
You'd better prove your charges before you get up such 
a lecture as that. 

C. A good smell will prove it, I dare say. (Stoops, as if 
to smell of hitn, when he spies the cigar, and pounces upon it.) 
Ah ! here's the proot. What do you say to that? (Her- 
bert looks confused, and hangs his head?) Confess guilty, 
eh? And hiding it, and denying it, too! Well, now, 
Bertie, that uses me up ! I never thought that of you. 
(A pause?) I always thought you the very soul of honor. 



Learning to Smoke. 241 

I'd have taken your word before that of any other boy in 
school. And here you are quibbling about tobacco ! Why 
I'd have knocked a boy down that would have told me 
that of you. 

H. Why, now, what is there so awful about it? 

C. Will you tell me, Bertie, what made you try to hide 
it, if it wasn't bad? {A pause, but no reply?) I suppose, 
now {gently), you wouldn't want your father to know it, 
nor your Sunday-school teacher, would you? 

H. No, Clark, I can't say that I would ; and yet it was 
because I saw them sitting and smoking together so 
cosy Sunday afternoon that made me wish to smoke 
too. 

C. Did you ask them to teach you ? 

H. Why, no J What a ridiculous idea ! 

C. Why, if it's a good thing to use tobacco, and every- 
body knows it's so difficult to learn, who would be a more 
proper person to teach you than your own father or 
your Sunday-school teacher? 

H. Well, I wouldn't like to ask them, any how. 

C. That shows there's something wrong about it. 

H. What is it, then ? They're good men. They ought 
to do right. 

C. Well, I don't quite know, Bertie; but I think good 
men don't always do right in all things. They used 
to drink, you know, before the temperance reform, 
ministers and all — before they knew how much it hurt 
them. 

H. But people know about tobacco, don't they ? 

C. Some do, and some don't. It seems you didn't 
know enough to keep you from trying it. But you see 
they learn it slyly when they're boys, just as you began 
it here ; and so no one warned them till it was done, 
and they first begin to think when the habit is so fixed 
that they cannot shake it off without a great struggle. 
Sometimes it makes them much sicker than it did to 
learn. 



242 Learning to Smoke, 

H. Why, I didn't know that, John Decker says he 
can give it up any time. 

C. Weil, he'd better do it, then, before he gets to be 
as bad as his brother Henry. It's killing him, and he 
knows it; but when he tries to leave it off, it gives him 
the real trei7iens. 

H. Whew ! Well, I- would stop before I got so bad as 
that. 

C. I tell you the only safe way is to stop before you 
begin, and then you don't have any trouble about it. 
There's many an old tobacco-chewer that would give 
lots of money if he was just back where you are, and he'd 
take the pledge against it mighty quick. 

H. The pledge ? 

C. Yes ; I've got one here in a pledge-book {pulling it 
out of his poc kef). I've put my name to it, and I'd just 
like to have yours right under it. 

H. {takes it and reads). Never to take tobacco in any 
shape as long as 1 live. Well, I may as well now as ever. 

C. Here's a pencih 

H. {signs his 7tame). So here's a good-by to false- 
hoods and dodgings, and I hope you'll trust me for a 
truth teller from this time out. 

C. That I Will. {They shake hands). And now 1 want 
to get all the boys I can to sign this; and perhaps we can 
get up a society, 

H. What, a society against smoking? 

C. Yes, against tobacco in every shape— something 
like the Good Templars against alcohol. And we could 
lake the boys that are too young to go to the Good Tem- 
plars, and perhaps the girls would come in too. 

H. Good ! I go in for that. Let's go and get Chris 
Howland ; I guess he'll help. {They go off together^ 

Julia Colman\ 



Taking a Stand. 243 



Taking a Stand. 
Characters. — Ralph and Edward. 

Ralph. Don't you think our teacher is a little parti- 
cular, Ed? I don't believe I'll join the Band, for I know 
I can be a good proof that it isn't necessary. 

Edward. I don't think he's too particular at all. Sup- 
pose you could stand, as proof; it isn't every one that 
can; and I'm willing to stand for the sake of helping 
others stand, if need be. 

R. I don't see the harm, any way, in a little pure wine 
now and then — a mere taste at a party, or when handed 
you by a friend. 

E. Not " seeing the harm " is the worst rock to split 
on there is. It's a little, low rock, without any light- 
house atop, or any bell buoy beside it ; and many a ship 
has struck there, after going safely past worse dangers, 
where they were pointed out. Tim Carson is in his grave 
to-day, because he " didn't see any harm " in a little wine 
on New Year's day. It came so many times, and tasted 
so good each time, that the habit was formed which he 
never broke afterward. 

R. Tim never had much force, any way. 

E. I don't know about that. You'll admit Joe Ellsler 
had, and he hung himself before he had " seen the harm " 
nvny days. 

R. Oh ! well, that was a peculiar case. It wouldn't 
happen once in a thousand times. Joe was mortified to 
death because he happened to get drunk, and the fellows 
led him into mischief, and he couldn't stand the disgrace 
of having to be expelled. 

E. Perhaps it was a peculiar case, but it saved Robert 
White.; and I heard Rob say he'd give a thousand dollars 



244 The Motto of Our Order. 

if he hadn't laughed poor Joe out of signing che pledge 
one day last winter, when the boys first got it up. 

R. Well he might, as things turned out. 

E. We never can tell how things are going to turn out. 
That's it; and if I'm safe myself, I shall do all I can to 
help save others. Every paper you take up is full of 
murders, and suicides, and terrible cruelties, all started 
by rum, and yet nobody can " see the harm," or where it 
lies. I think it's proof enough of what comes from hav- 
ing no fear of a little wine. There's a world-wide differ- 
ence in not beginning, and stopping after you've once 
started. A precious few can stop when they choose ; but 
with most who begin to run on a down grade, they never 
stop till they reach the bottom. 

Kruna. 



The jW.otto of Otjf^ Ordei\. 

{To be performed by three little girls, representing Love, 
Purity, and Fidelity, and wearing dresses or sashes of the 
appropriate colors— the red, white, and blue — also small 
crowns, each having a star in the centre. 

Love. 

O rum ! thou dark monster, how gloomy thy reign ! 
What tears have been shed o'er thy millions of slain ! 
What hopes thou hast wrecked, what sad trophies 

won ! 
Thou hast slain the fond father, and smitten the son. 

Purity. 

Thou hast entered the mansion, and hung it with 

gloom, 
Thou hast dug for bright genius a premature tomb ; 



The Motto of Our Order. 245 

The learned thou hast conquered, the gifted o'er- 
thrown, 

The eloquent stricken — claimed all as thine own. 

Fidelity. 

Bright homes thou hast darkened, and 'neath thy sad 

tread 
Our loved ones have fallen, and sleep with the dead; 
The husband, the father, the brother, the son, 
Thy cup has destroyed — they have gone one by one. 

Love. 

I come from the councils of the blest, on a mission to 
the children of men. I visit the sick, lift up the fainting 
head, and cheer the failing heart. 1 watch by the bed- 
side of the suffering, smooth the pillow of the dying, and 
whisper words of everlasting life. This is my mission. / 
am Love. 

Purity. 

I show the sons of men how to be spotless in heart and 
life; for in that beautiful land of ineffable glory to which 
our Father will call his ransomed ones, no stain of sin, 
no shadowy cloud of earth, shall dim the heavenly radi- 
ance. I teach all to shun evil and guile, and to love that 
which is good and pure. My name is Purity. 

Fidelity. 

I teach the children of earth to have faith in God, and 
to be true to each other. The world is full of sin and 
misery, because they transgress the laws of God. I show 
them how faithful are his promises, and that in keeping 
his commandments there is great reward. This is my 
mission. I am Fidelity. 



246 The Motto of Our Order. 

Purity (with clasped hands). 

O God of the widow ! the orphan's last friend, 
Whose conquering kingdom shall ne'er know an end, 
Swift speed the glad day when rum's reign shall be 

o'er, 
And our trio of virtues [all join hands'] shall bind 

shore to shore ; 
When the last tear shall fall o'er the spoils it has 

won, 
When the last wretched father, the last reeling son, 
Shall stand 'neath the banner of temperance unfurled, 
And the song of the victors shall ring through the 

world. 
Then the wine-cup shall shatter, the dragon be chained, 
The curse shall be banished, the heart no more pained, 
And the bright crystal waters our Father has given 
Shall be man's only drink as he passes to heaven. 

All Sing, 

Then up with the temperance banner! 

Its proud motto give to the sun, 
May our faith in our cause never wither, 

Nor cease till the victory is won. 
May Purity, Fidelity, Love, ever 

Inspire us our pledge to renew, 
Our Cause and our Order for ever — 

Three cheers for the red, white, and blue ! 

Three cheers for the red, white, and blue, 
Three cheers for the red, white, and blue ! 

Our glorious Order for ever, 
Three cheers for the red, white, and blue ! 

{An invisible quartet placed near the trio, and joining in 
the chorus of the song, adds greatly to the effect.) 

Arranged by Mrs. Nellie H. Bradley. 



Temperance Alphabet. 247 



Temperance Alphabet. 

( To make this more effective and pleasing, it should be recited 
by twenty-six small boys or girls, each representing a letter.) 

A stands for Ale, a most poisonous drink; 
People are foolish who taste it, I think. 

B stands for Beer, that's as bad, if not worse; 
Both prove to the drinker a ruin and curse. 

C stands for Cider; don't sip it, I pray, 
For many a drunkard is made in that way. 

D stands for Drop ; though but one's in the cup, 
A bowlful may follow if you drink it up. 

E stands for Earnings ; and many a man 
Spends his in the beer-shop — a very poor plan. 

F stands for Fiend ; and the worst fiend of all 
Is the many-faced demon, old Alcohol. 

G stands for Gutter, a wretched mud-hole, 

Where men oft lie down who imbibe from the bowl 

H stands for Horror the drunken man feels, 

When, with '* snakes in his boots," he staggers and reels. 

I stands for Ills, with pains, poverty, woes, 
That Alcohol carries wherever he goes. 

J stands for Justice ; a good thing, no doubt, 

Which the judge who drinks liquor knows nothing about. 

K stands for Kindness ; a word which, I fear, 
The men who sell liquor are too deaf to hear. 



248 Temperance Alphabet. 

L stands for Lying ; strong drink is a foe 
To truth and to honor, as all people know. 

M stands for Mourning; all over our land 
Alcohol makes it with his cruel band. 

N stands for Nobles ; true nobles are they 
Who battle this demon by night and by day. 

O stands for Odious, which people become 

When they make themselves barrels for brandy and rum, 

P stands for Peace, which is certain to fly 
When riotous alcohol's huts are near by. 

Q stands for Quantity ; little or much, 

Strong drink is a things you had better not touch. 

R stands for Rowdy, Rumseller, and Riot ; 
Prohibition will give them all three a new diet* 

S stands for Silly r the drunkard is that 

When he goes reeling home with a brick in his hat. 

T stands for Trials, that make up the life 

Of the drunkard's poor children and sad-hearted wife* 

U stands for Use; it's a very good word, 

But the use of strong liquors is simply absurd. 

V stands, I suppose, for the harmless grape-vine ; 
God gave us the fruit, but men make the wine, 

W stands for Wickedness, Wailing, and Woes; 

They are all in the wine-cup the drunkard well kaows 

X stands for — well, really, I do not know what. 
But it crosses its legs like a drunken old soL 



Cider Drinking, 249 

Y stands for Yield, and old Alcohol must, 

For we soldiers will humble him down in the dust. 

Z stands for Zero — zero for naught, 
Naught (o) stands for nothing ; 

And that is just what 
Boys find in their pockets who tipple and drink; 
It's a very bad habit, I certainly think. 

Ella Wheeler. 



Cider Drinking. 



CHARACTERS. — Farmer Drew, Bessie Drew, Johnny Lane, 
Frank Perkins, 

Scene — The Farmer s Kitchen, Farmer Drew sitting in a 
big chair, Bessie sitting by the table, with one arm in a sling, 
reading aloud from a newspaper. On the table are a pitcher 
of cider and mugs. 

Bessie {reading). " Why, now, is President Johnson 
impeached? Simply because — " Oh! dear, papa, I am so 
tired of this impeachment question ! I do wish he would 
come ! I want you to see nim so much ? 

Farmer. Who? President Johnson? Well, now, I 
an't at dll partic'lar about seem' him. I'd a good deal 
sooner hear you read about him, that's a fact. 

B. Now, papa, I think you are too bad ! You know 
I didn't mean President Johnson. 

Far. How should I know ? He was the only " him " you 
was readin' about, anyhow. 

B. Well, I meant the little candy merchant that saved 
my life the other d.iy. O papa! Dr. Frost said if he 
hadn't rushed up and pulled me right out from under 
that horse's feet, I should have been killed on the spot ! 

Far. Noble little fellow ! I do want to see him, Bessie, 



250 Cider Drinking. 

and I wish I could do something for him. The doctor 
says they are as poor as poverty. 

B. Yes, papa, and he's got a little sister, and he keeps 
her and their mother by selling candy. We'll buy him 
out, won't we, papa? 

Far. I don't know about that. I'm afraid you've got a 
sweet tooth somewhere, pussy-cat! {Turning out some 
cider, and offering it to Bessie.) Here, child, wet your 
whistle, and read some more about " Andrew." 

B. No, papa, I can't bear the sour stuff. It makes me 
make up a face to see you drink it. Ugh ! how can you ? 

Far. That's because you've got a sweet tooth. I don't 
know about that little candy merchant coming here so 
much. You used to like a drink of good cider with your 
old father. 

B. Well, papa, I am never going to drink any more, 
you see, and 1 guess Cousin Frank won't either ! O 
papa ! there's Johnny Lane now, and Frank is with him. 
(Runs to meet them?) 

[Enter Johnny with his candy-tray, accompanied by 
Franks 

F. Uncle Drew, this is the little candy boy that saved 
Bessie. 

Far. Do come here, and shake hands with the old far- 
mer, youngster; that was a brave thing you did, boy, and 
I can never thank you enough ! 

J. Oh ! that was nothing much. I never stopped to 
think ; I just sprung up, and hit the horse a lounder, and 
grabbed the little girl— that wasn't much ! 

Far. Well, 1 think 'twas real brave and noble, and you 
won't lose nothing, now I can tell you. But you look 
cold, both of you. 'Tis a plaguy cold night for the first 
of April ; here (turning out the cider into mugs, and offering 
it to the boys), take a good swig of cider, both of ye. 
'Twill do you good. 

J. No, sir, thank you ; I don't like to drink cider. 

Far. Don't like cider? But you will like my cider,! 



Cider Drinking, 251 

know. I made it myself out o' some of my best baldwins, 
and it's nice— jest a leetle hard, but that don't hurt it a 
grain. Try a leetle on't, boys. 

J. No, sir, I cannot. 1 do like the taste of cider, but 
I've signed the pledge, and I cannot take anything that 
will intoxicate, not even cider. 

Far. Well, that's smart! I've taken cider every day 
for nigh on to forty years, and I never was intosticated in 
my life. I'm near about mad that you should insinuate 
such a thing. 

B. {laughing), O papa ! you said the funniest word ! 

Far. Well 'tan't 'cause I don't know better, but my 
tongue is kinder thick, child, and I never could quite get 
the hang of that big word. But as for cider bein* 
intosti — there it is again — intosti-toxticating, 3^011 see I 
don't b'lieve in it, I don't. 

J. I didn't mean any offence, sir ; I beg your pardon ! 

Far. Oh ! no offence, youngster. You saved little 
Bessie, and I couldn't get out with you, no how. But I 
s'pose 5 r our father's one o' these strict temperance folks, 
and you don't know better. 

J. My father is dead. He died two years ago. He 
wasn't a temperance man at all. I wish he had been. 

Far. What did lie die of? Not of drink, did he? 

J. Yes, sir! And mother says he began by drinking 
beer and cider when he was a young man. 

F. {snatching tip the mug, and drinking the cider at a 
draught). There ! that's what / think about it — prime 
old cider that, Uncle Drew ! 

Far. Well, Frank Perkins, for a boy o' your years, I 
must say that's going it rather steep ! 

B. O Frank ! how could 3^0 u ? 

F. \Vh3r, Uncle Drew, 3^ou said it was good for us, and 
t like it. I do ! Tell you what, such a mug o' cider's 
lhat'll set a fellow up ! It goes to the right spot. 

B. O Frank ! how could yon drink it ? 

F. How could I ? Why, I just opened my mouth so 



252 Cider Drinking. 

{taking up the other mug), and tipped the mug up so, 
and — 

Far. {taking the mug from him). No you don't ! not 
in my house, young man I 

F. {scratching his head). Well, I didn't, did I ? But, 
Bess, that's the way I could do it, if I wasn't hindered. 
It is just as easy ! 

J. Are you crazy, Frank Perkins? 

F. Why, you all look as if Td done something horrid ! 
Do you think I'll be a drunkard any sooner for taking a 
mug of cider ? 

J. Yes, I do. I think every mug of cider you drink, 
you will be the more likely to become a drunkard. 

Far. N-no, don't know's I do. But it startled me a 
leetle to see a small shaver like you gobblin' down sich 
a big mugful — and hard cider, too. 

F, Well, I drank three the other day before we went a- 
coasting ; and, uncle, you told me 'twould do me good. 
I've got so I can carry off two very well, but that third 
mugful was a leetle too much. 

B. Papa, Dr. Frost says Frank was real dizzy, and it 
was the cider made him steer my sled off the bank. 

Far. Child ! child ! what do you mean ? 

J. Frank was real tight, Mr. Drew — he'll tell you so 
h i m s e I f — on your cider ! 

F. Only boozy, uncle, so I saw two objects for one, 
and the ground kept coming up and hitting me in the 
face, and that's what sent little Bessie flying over the 
bank right in the midst of all those horses and sleighs. 

B. Yes, papa, and you coaxed him to drink it — I heard 
you. You said, " Twill do you good, Frank ! 'Twill keep 
out the cold, Frank ! " Now, papa, if Frank had killed 
me, he wouldn't have been to blame, don't you see ? 

Far. Yes, I see, child ; I should have been your mur- 
derer — that's so ! Well, I'll never ask you to take a mug 
of cider again, Frank, that's a fact. 

B. Nor ine, papa ? 



Cider Drinking. 253 

Far. No, nor you, puss ! I'll take my cider by myself 
in future. 

B. I wish you wouldn't take it at all, papa. Frank, 
you're going to sign the pledge, aren't you? Please, 
FranKie ! If you don't, I'll never forgive you for throwing 
fnz to the horses and breaking my arm. 

Far. I think you'd better, boy. Why, if I'd a gone and 
drunk sich a mug o' cider as that 'ere at your age, I'd a 
been a gutter-drunkard now! 

J. Come, Frank, join our Band of Hope. We do have 
the jolliest times ! 

F. No, I won't do it ! But I'll tell you what I will do, 
uncle. I'm rather too big and lubberly to go with those 
children. But I'll jine the Good Templar's Lodge, if you 
will, uncle. Come, now, what do you say? 

Far. Me ! Jine the lodge, and give up my mug o' 
cider o' nights, and be a reg'lar teetotaler? Why, boys, I 
should dry up and blow away in a month ! No smokin' al- 
lowed, I 'spose ! No tea nor coffee allowed either, I 'spose ! 

B. Oh ! yes, uncle; the Good Templars smoke like a 
steam-engine, some of them, and chew like fun — more 
shame for them ! And tea and coffee are allowed always. 
O papa ! I have learned to make a " royal " cup of tea. 

Far. {taking out his memorandwn-book and writing). 
Well, child, if there's one thing I do like better'n cider, 
it's a royal cup o' tea. {After writing a mo?nent.) Well, 
children, here's my pledge, and you've all on you got to 
sign it with me. {Reads.) " Seein' I've come plaguy nigh 
makin' a drunkard of my nephew Frank — a harum-sca- 
rum, he is, but good as wheat at heart — and seein' how 
nigh I come to bein' the means o' his murderin' my 
darlin' by coaxin' him to drink more cider'n was good 
for him, I do solemnly pledge myself never to buy, or 
sell, or give away, or drink anything that can intos-ti-tox- 
icate, for ninety-nine years to come. Signed, Ebenezer 
Drew." Now, youngsters, put your names here. 

[Alt come up and sign.] 



254 Likes and Dislikes. 

B. {dancing round her father). Now, papa, buy the 
candy out, and treat us all around. 

Far. Oh ! what a sweet tooth that child has got ! 
Well, you all please jine and sing something first, and 
I'll see — I'll see, child. 

[All sing some appropriate piece.] 



Likes and Dislikes. 

Characters. — John and Mary. 

John. I should not like a red, red nose. 

Mary. That is the color of the rose. 

J. The hue for flowers is good enough. 

M. So 'tis for noses up to snuff. 

J. The toper's nose is ruby red. 

M. That is the color of your head. 

J. Now, Mate, stop poking fun at me. 

M. What a good light-house that would be ! 

J. Do you refer to my red hair? 

M. To anything that burns in air. 

J. You pretty, witty, little scold. 

M. It is a radiant crown of gold. 

J. I should not like a toper's eyes. 

M. They are not clear as cloudless skies. 

J. They're water-drops in rings of pink. 

M. Say drops of rum and blots of ink. 

J. I should not like his parched lips. 

M. They're water-proof as clipper-ships. 

J. But ships sometimes may spring a-leak. 

M. The drunkard does — look at his cheek. 

J. Our drink is poured in silver showers. 

M. For girls and boys, and birds and flowers. 

G. W. Bungay. 



We will Stand by tlic Flag. 255 



We will Stand by the Flag. 

An acting: acrostic for twenty boys, who should each have a letter in the 
right band. A sheet of card-board, with a large capital letter plainly printed 
on, will answer the purpose. As eaca boy comts out and recites his line, he 
should hold up the card containing the letter with which his line commences. 
When all have recited, the motto of the piece can be seen plainly by the let- 
ters. At the close, let them recite or sing the verse given below, to the tune 
of " Jeannette and J cannot." To add to the effect, a large flag should be 
prettily draped ; or they can hold a small flag in the left hand, and wave it 
as they sing. 

W hat though the hill be rough and high, 
E xcelsior! shall be our cry, 

W hat though the foe be firm and strong, 
I f we are right, and lie is wrong. 
L et's nobly battle for the right; 
L et's win, or never cease to fight! 

S hould drinkers frown and proud men sneer, 
T hen by our acts we'll show how dear 
A nd good our cause, by living down 
N eglect, abuse, and sneer, and frown — 
D efeat comes not, if we endure : 

* B ut victory by-and-by is sure; 

Y es, though the foe be linked with sin, 

T hough thousands serve and worship him, 
H e yet shall fall and bite the dust ; 
E arth shall be pure, for God is just. 

F ear not, then, ye who work and pray ! 
L ong coming, yet there comes a day — 
A day when drunkenness shall cease, 
G od glorified, and man at peace. 



256 The Crooked Tree. 

All Sing. 

(Tune — " Jeannette and jfeannot") 

A happy day is coming, 

When King Bacchus shall resign 
His throne to pure Queen Temperance, 

And water conquer wine ; 
And the day will come the sooner, 

If you help the cause along, 
And join our band, and not forget, 

The motto of our song. 

Edward Carswell. 



The Crooked Tree. 

Characters. — Annie and Sarah 

Annie. How very happy you look this morning, Sarah f 
Something has pleased you, I'm sure. 

Sarah. Oh ! yes, Annie ; father has signed the tem- 
perance pledge. 

A. Father signed the pledge ! How ridiculous ! Your 
father never was a drunkard. 

S. No; but he went to hear a temperance sermon. 

A. Well, and what of that ? 

S. Why, father was so convinced that teetotalism was 
better than drinking that he signed the pledge there 
and then. 

A. What's the use of talking about drinking, when you 
say your father never w r as a drunkard ? 

S. I know that father never was a drunkard, but I 
must confess that he was a drinker. 

A. A drinker ! Why, how much did he drink — a gal- 
lon a day ? 

S. No ; father used to take a gill at dinner, and another 
at supper-time. 



The Crooked Tree. 257 

A. And do you call a man a drinker for that ? 

S. Vi hat do you call him ? 

A. Why, I'm sure I would not call him a drinker; that 
would be putting him on the same side as drunkards. 

5. What would you call me if you saw me take a glass 
of water everyday? 

A. Why, of course, I should call you a water-drinker. 

S. But suppose the glass had contained beer instead 
of water. 

A. Why, of course, I should say you were taking your 
daily glass. 

S. What do you mean by taking ? 

A. Why, you stupid, I mean drinking. 

S. Now, come, don't get out of temper, because I want 
you to call things by their proper names. 

A. But I shall never call a man a drinker because he 
takes a glass now and then. It is shocking to call a 
good Christian man a drinker; that puts him on the 
same line as the drunkard ! 

E. Exactly ; that's just what I want to prove. Do you 
not see that it must be so, since the station of " one 
glass " is the very place where all drunkards first 
started ? 

A. But they must have gone down to a wrong line after. 

S. Very true. But don't you see that if they had not 
started from the station of " or/c glass," they could never 
get on the line of drunkenness ? 

A. I cannot see that. 

S. Do you know that crooked tree which grows near 
Farmer Brownlow's house? 

A. Yes ; but what has that to do with drinking? 

S. Listen. That crooked old tree is just like the drunk- 
ard in his crooked and perverse ways, with his ragged 
coat, his bloodshot eye, and his quivering lip. 

A. Yes, I can understand all that. 

S. Well, now, how did the tree become so ugly and 
crooked ? 



258 The Crooked Tree, 

A. Why, because it was not trained properly when it 
was a tender plant. 

S. And that is exactly why people become drunkards — 
because they were not trained properly while they were 
young. Don't you remember what the Bible says, " Train 
up a child in the way he should go ; and when he is old, 
he will not depart from it " ? Is that true ? 

A. Yes, that must be true ; for God said it by the 
mouth of Solomon. 

S. Well, now, just think, for a moment, how drunkards 
are made every year. God sent them into the world, as 
he sent you and me, perfectly sober, with a body adapted, 
not for alcohol, but for clear, sparkling water. But 
when they become boys and girls, and are able to ob- 
serve and reflect, they see their fathers, and mothers, 
and friends taking the drink, saying how good and neces- 
sary it is for health and happiness, and they believe that 
what father, and mother, and friends say and do must be 
right, and thus thousands of boys and girls receive bad 
impressions and form wrong habits. They begin just to 
taste a little, and get from little to much, and from much 
to more, until the full-grown drunkard appears in all his 
crooked deformity. 

A. There is great force in what you say; but I must be 
off. Good-morning. 

S. Stay ! There is another thought : are you con- 
vinced that teetotalism is right? 

A. Oh ! yes, I believe it is doing a good work. 

S. Then why don't you come and join us ? 

A. What am I to do ? 

S. Why, you can do as I do— sign the pledge, and set 
an example which others may safely follow ; and try to 
get others to sign. You know what the song says, 

44 Every little mite, 

Every little measure, 
Helps to spread the light, 
Helps to sweH the treasure." 



The Choice of Trades. 259 

A. Yes, you arc right ; I think I will do as you do. 
S. Come along, then, and sign the pledge first. (Annie 
signs the pledged) 

W. Hoyle. 



The Choice of Trades. 

(Elez>en boys and girls arranged in a semicircular group, so 
as to present their faces in part to the audience, in part 
towards each other?) 

One of the Larger Boys, standing near the centre. 
Come, boys and girls, 
Let's each of us now 
Choose the trade we will have 
When we're women and men. 
We are all temperance soldiers, 
So let what will come, 
Our trade sha'n't encourage 
The traffic in rum. 
Tom Bent, you're the oldest, 
We'll begin where you stand (at his right), 
And Til speak after Joseph, 
Standing here at this hand (at his left). 

Tom Bent. Til be a farmer ; 
But you never shall hear 
That Thomas Bent's hops 
Ever make lager-beer, 
Or that Thomas Bent's apples 
Make cider to drink — 
For vinegar and cooking 
He'll have plenty, I think. 
And I'll raise such fine crops 
To make men grow strong ; 
I shall just sing and whistle 
The summer day long. 



260 The Choice of Trades. 

Second Boy. Fll be a lawyer ; 
But I never will lend 
My counsel to bad men, 
A bad cause to defend. 
And I'll work without fees 
If I ever can aid 
The cold-water army 
To put down the rum trade. 



Girl. Fll be a dressmaker 
And milliner too ; 
My dresses and bonnets 
Will be wonders to view. 
And I'll do what / can 
That they never shall hide 
The sorrowful heart 
Of a rum drinker's bride. 



Boy or Girl, Fll be a school-teacher, 
And shall do what I can 
To make of each lad 
A good temperance man. 
And I'll teach all my girls 
To regard with a frown 
Both tobacco and rum, 
And so put them down. 

Girl or Boy. Fll be a missionary 
When I've grown good and wise, 
And teach the dark pngans 
The way to the skies. 
I shall tell them the path 
That by drunkards is trod 
Leads far, far away 
From our Father and God. 



The Choice of Trades. 261 

Boy. ril be a sailor, 
Then captain, some day, 
And sail o'er the ocean 
To lands far away. 
But old Alcohol never 
Shall step on my deck, 
For where'er he is harbored 
There's sure to be wreck. 



Boy. ril be a doctor ; 
And when folks are ill, 
I'll be ready to cure them 
With powder or pill. 
But I ne'er will prescribe 
Whiskey, brandy, or gin, 
To awaken old tastes, 
Or the new to begin. 

Girl. I'll be a housekeeper, 
To broil, bake, and stew, 
And take care of my house 
As our mothers do. 
I'll look after my household, 
And ever despise 
Putting wine on the table 
Or brandy in pies. 

Boy. Til be a merchant, 
And keep a big store, 
With large piles of goods 
And clerks by the score. 
And I'll pay better wages 
Than other men do, 
If they'll all be teetotalers, 
Tried men and true. 



262 The Choice of Trades, 

Joseph {at the left hand), I mean to fift 
An editor's station, 
For his words reach men's ears 
All over the nation. 
I'll get good for myself, 
And do good to others, 
And try to help all, 
As though they were brothers ; 
No matter what fashionable wine-bibbers say, 
I'll teach total abstinence's the only safe way. 

First Boy again. A member of Congress 
Tm intending to be ; 
Perhaps me Vice-President 
You one day will see ! 
And if / help make laws 
For this nation of nations, 
Neither sailors nor soldiers 
Will get rum with their rations. 
And I'll do what I can 
To lay by on the shelves 
All the members who drink 
And make fools of themselves. 

ALL TOGETHER IN CONCERT. 

True and earnest boys and girls 
Who will work with a will 
Can take a long step 
Toward removing this ill. 

A. Swasey Obear. 



Young Temperance Orator. 263 



Young Temperance Orator. 

Characters. — Albert, John, Fannie, Jessie, Mr. Gordon. 

{Albert and John enter and take seats.} 

John. Well, Albert, I am really glad you have come 
back again ; for you are usually the ringleader in all our 
sports, and we cannot spare you very well. But what is 
this? {Takes hold of ATs coat-collar, and examines some" 
thing.) 

Albert, That is a Band of Hope badge. 

J. Band of Hope— that's a temperance society, isn't it? 

A. Yes. Most of the young folks at Rosslyn Village, 
where I bave been visiting, belong to it; and, believing it 
to be a good thing, I joined. 

J. And signed the pledge? 

A. Certainly I did, 

J. Oh ! my ; and now what will you do for cider ? 

A. Do without it. 

J. That's easily said, but not so easily done. What 
does your father say about it ? I know he is opposed to 
signing the pledge, He thinks it is not manly to "sign 
away one's liberty." 

A. He knows nothing about it yet. Mother thinks it 
to keep him in ignorance at present. She is afraid 
ho will be very angry. 

J. I guess he will ; but I think it would be better for 
him if he would sign the pledge himself. Now, Al, I 
don't mean any offence; but tell me truly, don't you 
believe your father takes his glass too often ? 

A. Yes, John, I have known it for some time, and it 
grieves me very much. I do hope he will see the danger 
that threatens him, and turn back before it is too late, 
And now, John, I have work to do, and I want you to 



264 Young Temperance Orator. 

help me. I'm going round among the boys and girls, and 
try how many names I can get toward forming a Band 
of Hope. Will you give me your assistance ? 

J. How can I, Ai ? You know father makes quantities 
of cider, and I like it as well as you do ; and then, it does 
me no harm to drink it. 

A. John, you •think that my father loves liquor too 
well ; he began by drinking cider, but very soon he 
wanted something stronger, and so will you, if you don't 
stop. 

J. Well, Al, I'll think about it ; and may be I'll join, if 
I can give up my cider. Have a cigar? Splendid brand, 
{Offers one.) 

A. Thank you; I don't smoke now. 

J. Does your pledge forbid it? 

A. It prohibits the use of tobacco in any form. 

J, Well, that is going the teetotal with a vengeance ! 
But come, let's take a walk ; it is too pleasant to stay 
indoors. {Rises.) 

A. I have no objection, provided we do not go very 
far ; I expect two of my cousins this morning, and would 
not like to be absent when they come. {Exeunt.) 
[Enter Fannie a?id Jessie.] 

Fannie {scornfully). Well, I've heard enough to know 
that Mr. Albert has brought home some extra superfine 
notions with him. He's got so stuck up among his rich 
relatives that he can't even drink cider with us common 
people, 

Jessie. You are mistaken, Fannie. Albert is too sen- 
sible to get " stuck up," as you call it. I think he has 
done just what is right. 

F. Oh ! you always were on his side. Well, I mean to 
fix a plan that will make him ashamed of his nonsensical 
airs, and make some sport for us besides. 

Jes. What do you intend to do, Fannie ? 

F. Oh ! you'll see soon enough. Just wait a moment. 
{Runs out.) 



Young' Temperance Orator. 265 

Jes. I hope she will not do anything to wound Albert's 
feelings, he is so sensitive. At any rate, she won't get 
any help from me. 1 wish all the boys about here would 
stop drinking, chewing, and smoking; I'm sure I should 
like them better. 

[Enter Fannie, with glass supposed to contain cider ', and a 
large piece of pasteboard with a string attacked.] 

F. Now, Jessie {placing the glass on table), I wish you to 
help me hang this placard up against the wall. You can 
reach higher than I can. But don't look at the other 
side till it is up. 

Jes. I'll not help to do anything that will make Al feel 
badly. You must carry out your plans alone. 

F. You are reaily mean, Jessie Ma)' ! But I'll fix it, in 
spite of you. {Stands on tip-toe, and tries to reach a nail 
placed very high, but fails.) 

Jes. Ha \ ha ! that's good. 

F. You need not crow quite so soon, Miss Jessie. I'll 
succeed, never fear. {Stands on a chair, and makes another 
attempt, but fails.) 

Jes. {clapping her hands). Ha! ha! ha! Try again, 
Fannie. Dont you wish I would bring you a long 
ladder? 

F. {angrily). You just mind your own business ! You 
never could help anybody out of a scrape. You wouldn't 
even prompt me yesterday when I missed that word in 
spelling, and so I had to lose my place in my class. But 
I know how to do. {Places the chair near the table, and 
mounts the latter, a?id, by standing on the edge and reaching 
over, succeeds in hanging up the card. The side which she 
has kept concealed is tur?ied over, and she descends from the 
table.) There ! how does that look ? 

Jes. {reading aloud). "Mr. Albert Gordon, Great 
Temperance Orator ! " Did you mark that, Fannie ? 

F. Only the second line. You notice it is not done 
near so nicely as the other. Al's father marked the 
name the last time I was here, to label a box for him, but 



266 Young Temperance Orator, 

did not use it. But here he comes, and John with him. 
{The boys enter.) 

A. How are you, cousins? I'm very glad to see you. 
{Shakes hands, a?id John does the same.) 

F. (bowing very low). And we are very happy to meet so 
distinguished a gentleman. {Takes his arm, and leads him 
to the table, facing the audience*) I hope you w ill refresh 
yourself with the contents of that gkiss before beginning 
your great lecture* {Albert turns from one to the other, 
confused and astonished ; looks at the placard, and then at 
Fannie, who seems to enjoy his embarrassment '.) 

A. Really— this is— 

F. (placing her hand behind his head t and bending it for- 
ward suddenly). Bow to the audience, (All laugh?) Now 
we are ready to listen with profound attention, (All 
take seats?) 

A, Well, my friends, since you will force this honor 
upon me, I will muster up my courage, and do the best I 
can. But first I must dispose of this* (Takes up glass, 
and pours contents out of a window?) 

F. O Al! how could you waste that nice cider ? 

A. The meeting will please come to order. I came 
home from my visit with the intention of forming a Band 
of Hope, and this is a good time to commence, I am 
sure that all young folks should be teetotalers ; for then 
there will be no danger of their becoming drunkards in 
after-life, if they will only be faithful to the pledge. Some 
of us have fathers who drink, and we may be able to 
persuade them to reform, Those who have temperate 
fathers and friends can help those who have not; and so 
we can all try and do some good, even though we are 
young. Now, who will join my Band? 

J. I will, gladly. 

Jes. And so will L 

A. And you, Fannie? 

F. O Al ! I'm ashamed of n^'self, I fixed a plan to 
mortify you and make sport of you, and I am caught in 



Boirnd and Tight. 267 

my own trap ; for you are a temperance orator, even if 
you are a young one. I will join your Band, and do all I 
can for the temperance cause. 

[Mr, Gordon, ATs father, enters.] 

Mr. Gordon. And do you think I intend to let you 
little ones go ahead of me in your good work ? Not I. 
I have heard everything since John and Albert first 
entered, and, thanks to my little temperance man, shall 
be a teetotaler from this moment. {Lays his hand on AVs 
head.) I am proud of you, my son. 

J. Hurrah for Al and Mr. Gordon ! 

Mr. G. Now let's give a good " hurrah " for your Band 
of Hope. 

All. Hurrah ! Stella. 



Bound and Tight. 

Characters. — Jim and Harry. 

Jim. Hallo, there, Harry ! where are you bound ? 

Harry. Bound ? I'm not bound at all. I am as free 
as the mountain air. 

J. Oh ! pshaw! Why don't you answer me? You know 
what I mean. 

H. I know what you say ; and if that is not what you 
mean, then say it over again, and improve upon it. 

J. What is the use to be always haggling over words ? 
I never speak to please you. 

H. Words, Jim, should be the expression of our 
thoughts ; and if you speak what you do not mean, 'tis 
your own fault if you are misunderstood. We should be 
accurate in our speech and in our life. 

J. Well, then, I'll try it on again. Master Harry, 
where are you going ? 



268 Bound and Tight. 

H. I am on my way to the hall of the Sons of Tempe- 
rance — a place where I find good society, pure enjoyment, 
and the means of improving my mind and heart. 

J. Sons of Temperance! Ha! ha! Well, go in. I'm 
bound for a time, at Bunker's saloon. 

H. Yes, you are bound for a time. In this use of the 
word bound, I fear you are correct — bound by your at- 
tachment to bad society, by your lcve of unnatural and 
unhealthy excitement, and by your habit of using strong 
drinks. 

J. That's putting it rather steep. I shall expect to 
hear you call me a drunkard the next time we meet. 

H. I trust you will be disappointed in that, for I always 
intend to speak just as I mean ; and to call you a drunk- 
ard would give me inexpressible pain. 

J. But you do say that I am a slave to strong drink ; 
that I cannot resist temptation, and am therefore bound 
to visit Bunker's saloon. 

H. I think, if you are not thus bound, you area very 
passive and foolish victim. You see what others are who 
have long frequented that place, and if you are ready and 
willing to be like them, you are the first young man I 
ever saw who could coolly and deliberately make up your 
mind to go the downward way to ruin. 

J. Oh ! nonsense ! Can't a fellow go on a time occasion- 
ally, and not make a fool of himself? I never got drunk 
in my life. 

H. No one can go on such a time as you had at Bun- 
ker's a week ago, and not be far gone in his folly. 

J. What do you mean by that ? 

H. You say that you never got drunk ; but did you not 
acknowledge to me the other day that you were a little 
tight ? 

J. Tight? Oh! that's nothing. Half the young fellows 
do hat. 

H. And yhat is the exact difference between getting 
tight and getting drunk? Can you tell me ? 



Bound and Tight. 269 

J. Why, that is clear enough to be seen, but I don't 
know as I can express it to suit you. 

II. Please do the best you can, for I really would like 
to know. 

J. Well, I should say that the fellow who is tight is a 
little set up; while he who is drunk is a good deal set 
down. 

H. Both, then, are in an unnatural state, and from the 
same cause. If he who is set up by liquor should drink a 
little more, he would be set dozun. Is that it ? 

J. Yes, 1 suppose that is about the fact of the case. 
We'll call it so, at any rate. 

H. Then he who is tight is slightly drunk — that is, he 
has begun to be drunk. Do you agree to that also ? 

J. Why do you insist on the term drunk? That is a 
degrading and offensive word. I do not wish you to 
apply it to me directly or indirectly. 

H. Have you not applied it to yourself? You say that 
he who is tight is a little drunk ; and you acknowledge 
that a week ago you were a little tight. 

J. I will not get offended, for I know you are my 
friend ; but I confess that I do not like this attempt to 
degrade me by that offensive word. Why do you seek 
to force it upon me ? 

H. Because it belongs to you by your own decision. 
You are going in the way of evil men. You are in the 
incipient state of drunkenness. You are already bound 
(not hopelessly so, I trust) by a degrading habit, and I 
wish you to see your condition as it is. You do not like 
the name of drunkard, neither do I ; but you are courting 
it, and it will be given you, whether you like it or not, 
unless you turn from the path in which you are now 
walking, and fly the danger which now threatens you. 
Jim, you do not look upon these things as they are. I 
love you, and therefore speak thus plainly. 

J. I know you love me, Harry ; and if any one else had 
said these things, I would have knocked him down. 



270 How to Make all the World Teetotalers. 

There is to me a new thought in your words, and I will 
ponder it till we meet again. I shall not go to Bunker's 
to-day. 

H. Thank God for that ! Keep thinking, and you will 
soon find that it is best for every young man to be neither 
bound nor tight. Keep free from all bad habits, and in 
temperance and ^nW/becomewhat you may and should 
be — a respectable and noble man. 

Boston Nation. 



HOW TO M.AKE ALL THE WORLD TEE- 
TOTALERS, 

Characters. — Tom and Bill. 

-5*om. I say, Bill, you ought to have been at the lecture 
last night. 

Bill. Of course I know I ought to have been there, if 
I could. But I couldn't; don't you see that? Father 
had a special job to finish, and I stayed at home to help 
him. 

T. Well, you should have been there. It was jolly fun ; 
and didn't he tell a crammer, that's all ! 

B. Who ? 

T. Why, the lecturer, certainly. What do you think he 
said? Why, he said if there was only one teetotaler in 
the world now, and he was to get one man to sign the 
pledge in a year, and then both of them got one each the 
next year, and so on, each getting one a year, everybody 
in the world would be a teetotaler in thirty years. 

B. Did he say that for true ? 

T. He just did ; and if that isn't a crammer, I don't 
know what is— ha ! ha ! ha ! 

B. But, Tom, may be the man was right after all. It 
may be true. 



How to Make all the World Teetotalers. 271 

T. True! It can't be true. Why, look here. At the 
end of the Grst year there would be only two, wouldn't 
there ? Then the second year, only four; third year, only 
eight. Why, it would be a thousand years making- the 
world teetotal at that rate. 

B. Stop a minute, Tom, I'll figure it out myself; lend 
me your lead-pencil, and I'll use the back of this enve- 
lope for a piece of paper. I'll keep on multiplying thirty 
times. 

[Bill industriously works at his figures \ while Tom stands 
tuar^ whistling a?id looking on.] 

B. Eureka ! I've got it, and he is right Just look 
here, Tom. I read the other day that Vac people in all 
the world were reckoned to be a thousand millions; and 
in thirty } r ears, according to the lecturer's way of making 
them, there would be a thousand and seventy-three mil- 
lion, seven hundred and forty-one thousand, eight hun- 
dred and twenty-four teetotalers, and that's more than 
there would be people. 

T. Nonsense, Bill ; you're fooling! 

B. Yes, there would; just look at the figures — 1,073,- 
741,824. 

[ Tom takes the paper, and looks over it.] 

T. Well, I do declare, if it isn't right! I certainly 
thought it was a crammer, and the very idea made me 
laugh. 

B. Then don't be in such a hurry next time to doubt 
what the lecturers say. But come, Tom, it is nearly 
school-time. Let's be off, and see if we can't fool some 
of the other fellows. At any rate, it is a first-rate hint 
for us all to go to work, and each one should do his 
share. 



272 Little Brown Jug. 



Little Brown Jug. 

Characters. — Ben Dorsey, drunkard ; Albert and Liz* 
zie t his children. 

{Enter Ben Dorsey with brown jug in his. hand. Dorsey 

sings ;) 

w Ha ! ha 1 ha ! you and me^ 

Little brown jug, don't I love thee? 
Ha ! ha ! ha ! you and me, 
Little brown jug, I do love thee.'* 

{Drinks from jug.) That song was written in fun, I 
guess; but I can sing* it in earnest. Little brown jug is 
all the comfort I've got now. Wife said she thought it 
was bad enough for me to break the pledge ; but when I 
took to breaking the dishes, and some of them over her 
head at that,. I suppose she couldn't stand it, so she took 
the children and went home to her mother, and I an't 
got nothing or nobody but little brown jug- {Hugs it to 
his breast ; sits down en floor t and leans against wall ; 
drinks ; sets jug beside him.) I'm sleepy — guess I'll take a 
nap. {Shuts his eyes.) 

{Enter Albert and Lizzie, the latter walking on tiptoe, as if 
fearful of waking her father J) 

Albert. You needn't be so careful, Lizzie; he's dead 
drunk, I think. {Scornfully^ Now, an't that a great 
looking object to call father ? 

Lizzie. Don't speak so, Albert; it isn't right. 

A. Isitrightfor him to disgrace us, and treat us so 
badly we have to leave home? It's a hard-looking home, 
though ; it was bare enough when we left, and now there 
isn't even a chair in the room ; everything's gone for 
whiskey. We've tried to be good, obedient children, and 
yet he has brought us to poverty and disgrace ; and, 
what is worse than all,, he's just breaking mother's heart. 
Is that right ? 



Little Brown Jug. 273 

L. (distressed). Of course it isn't right, AI ; but he is 
our father, and we must do the best we can. 

A. I think we've done the best we could for a long 
time. We've Coaxed and begged him not to drink, and 
mother has cried until her beautiful eyes are dim ; and 
what does he care about it? I believe he loves that 
hateful brown jug more than his wife and children. 
(Takes cork from jug and smells contents.) Phew! regular 
old benzine whiskey. 

L. {eagerly). Let's empty it out, and fill it with water. 

A. We'll do better than that ; we'll empty it, and then 
smash it right here, as soon as he gets sober enough to 
know what we're doing. 

L. {alarmed). O Albert ! he'll just kill us, if we do 
that. 

A. No danger of that ; he is not very lively when he's 
just coming out of a spree ; it's only when he's going 
into one that he's dangerous. Come on ; let's spill this 
good liquor. {Exit with jug, followed by Lizzie.) 

Dorsey (opens his eyes). So they thought I was too 
drunk to know what they were saying and doing ; but 
they were mistaken. I tell you what, Ben Dorsey, your 
son has plenty of spirit and courage ; and he's ashamed 
of his father, too, that's plain. How little Lizzie spoke 
up for me when he talked so scornfully ! I have treated 
those children had, but I never realized it so much 
before; and th .r mother — they say I am breaking her 
heart. Can that be so? Why, it has only been a short 
time ago that I would have made any sacrifice to save her 
a moment's pain; and she's been a loving, devoted wife. 
But why don't she come back to — • Ah ! here come the 
children ; let's see what they will do. 

{Enter A. and L., the former bringing an old axe, and look- 
ing bold and determined ; the latter with the jug, frightened 
and shrinking .] 

D. (pretending to be angry). You young rascals ! what 
are you goi ng to do ? (Lizzie screams and retreats a few steps) 



274 Little Brown Jug. 

A. {bravely). We're going to smash up this jug ; and 
if you bring any more, we'll find them, and smash as fast 
as you bring them. Come on, Lizzie. 

D. Smash my jug ? Do it if you dare ! You want to 
take away my only comfort. 

L. Father dear, we and mother were your comfort be- 
fore you got the jug, but that made you so bad we had to 
go away. 

D. I'd like you to tell me what the jug made me do? 

L. Don't you remember how the whiskey you drank out 
cf it made you beat mother and cut her head with a bro- 
ken dish? And then you tried to. throw Al out of the 
window. 

A. And if Lizzie will push up her sleeve, you will see 
the great bruise where you struck her on the arm. 
{Lizzie exposes her arjn, on which a large purplish mark is 
seen, Dorsey looks at it, then covers his eyes?) If you would 
stop drinking, you wouldn't do such things. You loved 
us once, father. 

L. {Drops jug, puts her arm around his neck, smooths his 
hair) If you only would promise to stop, father, and love 
us again ! 

D. {with emotion). I can't make any promises, child, 
I'm too weak ; but you can do as you please with the 

jug- 

A. Hurra ! {Kicks jug to front of stage ; strikes it fierce- 
ly with the axe, till it is broken in pieces. Dorsey rises, and 
the three go out hand-in-hand, the children singing :) 

11 Ha ! ha ! ha ! don't you see, 

Little brown jug, how we hate thee? 
Ha. ha' ha! don't you see, 
Old brown jug, we've done with thee ? n 

Nellie H. Bradj 



Little Bessie. 275 



I- 



ittle Bessie. 



Characters. — Little Bessie, Bessie s Mother (a thoughtless 
tvoman), Mrs, Johnso?i y a teetotal neighbor. 

Mother. Bessie, where have you been all this time? 
Here I've been looking for you everywhere. 

Bessie. I've been to the Band of Hope, mother. There 
were plenty of ladies and gentlemen there ; I wish you 
had gone too ! 

M. What do I want with ladies and gentlemen ? You 
know I've no line clothes to put on. 

B. O mother ! they speak so kindly, I'm sure it would 
do ycu good to hear them. 

M. Are they any wiser than other people ? What can 
they tell me that I don't know ? 

B. They would tell you about an enemy that is trying 
to rob people and take away their lives. 

M. What enemy is that? 

B. They said his name was alcohol. 

M. What is alcohol? 

B. They said it was that which got into people's heads 
and made them drunk, mother. 

M. If that's all they've got to tell you at the Band of 
Hope, you sha'n't go any more. Do you hear me, now ? 
{Bessie hangs her head and wipes her eyes.) What are you 
crying for ? 

3. O mother ! do please let me go again. It is a very 
good place. 

M. Not an inch shall )'ou go again. I'll have none of 
their rooting into other people's business. Let them 
stay at home *ike me, and mind their own affairs. You 
go and bring me a bottle of beer ! 

B. O mother! — 



2j6 LiPtle Bessie. 

M. Not another word, now ; go, I tell you, at once. 
{Bessie moves off.) A fine thing, indeed, that a woman of 
my years must be taught what to drink and what to 
avoid by people who know nothing about it. They sha'n't 
dictate to me, however; I'll take care ot that. Let 
everybody mind their own business, that's what I've got 
to say. 

[Enter Mrs. Johnson.} 

M. How d'ye do, Mrs. Johnson ? 

Mrs. Johnson. I'm very well, thank you ; how are 
you ? 

M. I'm as well as can be expected, considering what I 
have to endure. 

Mrs. J. Don't your husband keep sober now ? 

M. I'm sorry to say he does not. Last week he was off 
three days through drinking ; and things are getting so 
bad with me, I'm sure I don't know whatever I must do. 

Mrs. J. What a pity he drinks so! I wish there was 
no drink ! 

M. It'll be the ruin of us all, ma'am, if he does not 
alter soon. 

[Enter Bessie with a bottle in her hand, stretching her 
awn out to keep the beer a lo7ig way from her mouth.] 

M. Who told you to carry beer that way, Bessie ? 

B. A gentleman at the Band of Hope said that if 
mother sent us for beer, we must keep the beer a long 
way from our mouth, lest we be tempted to drink. 

M. J'll give you Band of Hope, if I catch you there 
again ! Remember what I've told you, now. Put that 
beer away, and go tell Mrs. Roberts that I want to see 
her in the morning. 

[Bessie goes off, taking the bottle with her!\ 

Mrs. J. Don't speak so unkindly to your dear child, 

M. I'll make her do my way, or else I'll see 5 

Mrs. J. But what if your way is not God's way? 

M. I know what I'm doing. I go to church and reacj 
my Bible. 



4 Little /Jessie. 277 

Mrs. J. The Bible says : " Parents, provoke not your 
children to wrath, but train them up in the nurture and 
admonition of the Lord." 

M. I said that she must not go to the Band of Hope, 
and she sha'n't. 

Mrs. J. Suppose, now, that near your house there were 
some dangerous rocks, and it was found that many per- 
sons had lost their lives by venturing too near the edge 
of those rocks ; what advice would you give your child? 

M. Why, I should say, " Bessie, you must keep a long 
way from the rocks ; for if you go near them, you may 
fall over and be killed." 

Mrs. J. Did you ever hear of anybody being killed 
through drink ? 

M.Yes, scores. I've told my husband that drink will 
kill him some day, if he does not alter, 

Mrs, J. Just think, now, how thoughtless you have 
been. You admit that drink is like fearful rocks, on 
which many have lost their lives ; you say the best way 
to avoid the danger is co keep away from the rocks ; and 
yet you continue to arink yourselfc Don't you see how 
you are putting yourself on the rocks? How can you 
expect to save your husband or preserve your child 
while you yourself are on the place of danger ? 

M. I never looked at it in that light before. What 
would you advise me to do? 

Mrs. J. Why, abstain, like I do. I can wash and bake 
and do all my house-work without strong drink. I 
have brought a family up without it, and you can do 
without it too, if you will try. Who can tell but that 
God will make you the means of rescuing your husband? 
Think what a comfort that would be. Then there is your 
dear child — 

M. {wiping her eyes). God bless her ! she is a good child. 
I'll not keep her from the Band of Hope. 

Mrs. J. She will be a comfort to you while you live, if 
you encourage her to do what is right. 



278 Questions and Answers, 

[Enter Bessie.'] 

B. Mother, don't you feel well to-night? 

M. Nevermind, Bessie, I'll be .ill right soon. 

B. Mother, we've learned such a beautiful song at the 
meeting to-night, and Mrs. Johnson knows it, too. May 
I sing it; and Mrs. Johnson, won't you help me? 

Mrs. J. Not to-night, dear ; you can sing it for mother 
to-morrow. 

B. Mother, you won't keep me away from the meeting, 
will you ? 

M. No, dear ; you shall go as often as you like. 

B. O goody ! And won't you go with me next time? 

M. You'll see, dear, when the time comes. 

B. Mother, I've been praying for God to bless you and 
father, and — 

M. {sobbing). God bless you, dear ! I know why you 
prayed. Mrs. Johnson, have you got a pledge-book? 

Mrs. J. Yes, ma'am ; come right across to my house 
and you may sign now. 

B. Yes, do, mother ; and then we both can pray that 
father may sign too. Sha'n't we be happy then, mother ? 

[Exit.] 



Questions and Answers. 

for two persons. 

Quest 1071. 

Does the butterfly ever get dry, 
As it floats on wings of golden hue? 

It seems to think, when it lights on the pink, 
And the violet stored with dew. 

Answer. 
The butterfly soft, that soars aloft 

On its wings of gold and starry blue, 



Questions and Answers. 279 

More than twice would think before it would drink 
Anything stronger than honey-dew. 



Question. 

The roses stirred when the humming-bird 
Dipped its bill in their fragrant bowl ; 

Does he put a drop in his rainbow crop, 
And dance and sing like a jolly soul ? 

Answer. 

I give you my word that the humming-bird 
Is a teetotaler through and through ; 

If he puts a drop in his radiant crop, 
You know that he never gets blue. 

Question. 

The eagle that flies until lost in the skies 
Is so grand, so strong, and so swift ; 

Does he take anything to strengthen the wing, 
That sweeps like a cloud adrift ? 

Answer. 

The eagle that soars where the thunder roars, 
And flies unafraid where lightnings gleam, 

If he takes anything to strengthen his wing 
It is water that flows in the stream. 



Question. 

Some say that the deer will shed a soft tear 
From its mild and beautiful eyes; 

Does it weep because it has broken the laws 
Which the moderate drinker defies? 



280 How it Paid. 

Answer. 

Oh ! no, my sweet child ; the red deer so mild 
Only drinks from the river and lake ; 

Should you see a tear on the face of the deer, 
Don't think that his pledge is at stake. 

Geo. W. Bungay. 



flow it Paid. 

Characters.— Martin a?id George. 

[Martin and George meet on the stage.] 

Martin. Well, George, I believe this is the first time 
we have met since we left school. What are you doing 
now ? 

George. I'm learning to be an engraver. My em- 
ployer thinks I have considerable talent for that busi- 
ness. 

M. How much pay do you get ? 

G. Five dollars a week is all I get at present. I have 
not been at work long enough to accomplish much ; but 
Mr. Gray says that if 1 am patient and persevering, I 
shall be able to double it in the course of a year. 

M. Five dollars a week ! That don't pay. I get nine ; 
and there is a situation of the same kind that you can 
get, if you'll apply right away. 

G. What kind of a situation is it? 

M. That of salesman in a large grocery and liquor 
store. 

G. Do you have to sell the liquor ? 

M. Of course I do, just the same as anything else in 
the store. 

G. Well, I'd rather work hard for five dollars where I 
am than to get ten where you are. 

M. That's queer talk. I'd like to know the reason 
why? 



How it Paid. 2Sl 

G. Selling liquor is a mean business, whether you sell 
it by the pint or the barrel; and then, it's dangerous for 
any one, especially a boy, to handle the article. He might 
be tempted to taste it. 

M. Suppose he does, is that a crime ? 

G. Not of itself, exactly ; but you know that tasting too 
much makes people commit crimes very often. Of course 
it is not to be supposed that you ever will ; but I should 
like to see you engaged at something else. 

M. Something like you are doing, perhaps, at five dol- 
lars a week ! No, I thank you ; it wouldn't pay. i value 
my services at a higher rate. Good-evening ! 

G. Good-evening ' 

[Exit 171 opposite directions^ 

Scene II. 
[George enters with newspaper in hand.'] 

G. I can scarcely believe that Martin Day would be 
guilty of such conduct ; yet here it is in black and white. 
{Reads.) " Martin Day, one of the young salesmen in 
Brown's grocery and liquor store, was arrested yesterday, 
charged with purloining fifty dollars from his employer's 
desk. The money was found in his pocket. His youth 
and evident penitence have induced Mr. Brown to decline 
prosecuting him, being content to discharge him with 
a severe reprimand." 

[Enter Martin with hat pulled over his eyes.] 

M. {sullenly). So you are reading the story of my dis- 
grace ? 

G. O Martin ! you cannot imagine how sorry I feel. 
Sit down, and tell me if it be true. {Leads him to a seat.) 

M. Yes, it is all true, and more besides that was not 
published. One year ago you warned me, and I thought 
you were silly ; but now I am a disgraced iellow, and all 
owing to that cursed liquor. 

G. Stop, Martin ! don't use such language. 



282 How it Paid. 

M. Well, I won't do it again, if I can help it ; but when 
I think what liquor has done for me, I feel desperate. 

G. How did it happen, Martin ? 

M. It began just as you said, by tasting a little at first 
(there's a sample-room attached to the establishment, 
you know) ; and it has gone on from that, until I have 
often left the store with a very light head. Day before 
yesterday, the other clerk and myself were in that con- 
dition when we started home, and, before I was aware of 
it, I found myself in a gambling-saloon for the first time 
in my life. If I had been sober, I should have gone out 
as fast as possible ; but I was too much befogged to 
realize what I was about, and I was persuaded to take a 
lesson at the card table. 

G. You don't say you gambled, Martin? 

M. Yes, and lost all the money 1 had — nearly a month's 
salary. Yesterday I felt so miserable about it that I 
kept drinking slyly all dajr, until I was ready to do any- 
thing wicked. I took fifty dollars from Mr. Brown's 
desk, intending to win back my own money, and then 
return his secretly. It was missed before I had a chance 
to get away with it, and I was detected and discharged. 
It it were not for my mother and sister, I should feel 
like hanging myself. {Drops his head on his hands, and 
groans?) 

G. (laying his hand on his shoulder kindly). You must 
not cherish such feelings, Martin. Begin again, and 
make for yourself a name for soberness, industry, and 
honesty that will cause all this to be forgotten. 

M. (raising his head). Thank you for such encouraging 
words. I will try again, but not in this place ; no one 
would give me a chance to redeem myself here, nor 
would I ask it. I will go where I am not known, and 
will work my way up. And I tell you, George, I'll dig 
on the streets, or peddle old clothes, before I'll go to 
work in any establishment where liquor is sold. If I had 
only been content to begin as you did, I might, like you, 



The Nciv Pledge. 28 3 

be receiving fifty dollars a month now, and the same 
respect and confidence. 

G. What do you propose to do now ? 

M. My brother-in-law has loaned mc some money, and 
given me a letter of introduction to a friend in Baltimore, 
who will help me to find employment of some kind — 
Something which has no associations of a nature to injure 
my morals and reputation. You shall hear an account 
of me soon that will make you feel proud of your old 
schoolmate; for I have learned this lesson : there's more 
to think of in any business than the dollars it brings. 
Some things dont pay at any price. I must be off. 
Good-by ! 

G. (shaking hands). Good-by, and success to you ! 
{Curtain drops.) 

Stella. 



The New Pledge. 



Principal Characters. — President, Secretary, Geo. Hoyt, 
Henry Faber, Jasper Clark, Edward King, and as many 
monbers as desired. 

[A seene in the society room. President i7i chair, other 
officers and members i?i their places?^ 

Secretary. George Hoyt is accused of breaking his 
pledge. 

President. George, what have you to say for yourself? 

George (steps out and stands). Not guilty. 

Pres. Who is the first witness in this case ? 

Sec. Jasper Clark. 

Pres. Jasper, please tell us what you know about it. 

Jasper (standing). I was in at Mr. Townsend's last Sat- 
urday night, when George Hoyt and Eli Townsend came 
in all wet from eel-fishing. Mrs. Townsend brought out 
some cherry-brandy for Eli, and told him to drink it to 



284 The New Pledge. 

prevent his taking cold ; and she gave some to George, 
and he drank it. 

Pres. What have you to say to that, George ? 

G. I took it as a medicine. 

Pres. Were you sick ? 

G. No, but I was afraid I should be. 

Pres. People generally wait till they are sick before 
they take medicine. 

G. I thought if I took medicine to prevent my becom- 
ing sick, that would be still better. 

Pres. But you did not take it by order of a physician. 

G. The pledge does not require that. 

Pres. Well, then, is every one to be his own judge? 

G. He can be for all the pledge says to the contrary. 
But my pa says he would as soon trust Mrs. Townsend as 
any physician in the place, and much sooner than he 
would Dr. Lettson, who gets drunk every day. 

Pres. If we can choose our doctors in that way, sup- 
pose we should ajl take the advice tipsy Jim gave us 
when he found us all shivering without a fire one eve- 
ning, and take a little cordial to keep us from getting 
cold. Would you agree to that ? 

G. No ; but I do not see that it would make much dif- 
ference whether you took it by the advice of tipsy Jim 
or tipsy Dr. Lettson. 

Pres. Let us look at it in another light, then. Suppose 
you were a reformed man — had once been a drunkard, 
like many of the men who are now members of tempe- 
rance societies. Now, taking medicine of that sort would 
be the worst thing you could possibly do — serve you 
worse than a dozen colds. Don't you see that would 
not be a safe rule ? 

G. Yes, but I am not a reformed man. 

Pres. True, but we want a society that will be safe for 
a reformed man or anybody else. We want no two rules 
about it. 

G. Then why allow it for medicine at all, if it is not 



The New Pledge. 285 

safe for the reformed man to take it, and you want no 
two rules? 

Pres. (a pause). Well I did not make the pledge. 
{Another pause .) What shall we do with this case ? 
(Looking around.) Has any member anything to say 
about i t ? {Another pause .) 

J. If we want a society where the reformed man and 
everybody else would be safe, and no two rules about it, 
why not have a pledge not to take alcoholic liquors at 
all for any purpose ? If the reformed man can get along 
without them for medicine, we can ; and do you not all 
think that it would be the best way? 

Henry Faber. I like that idea. It does seem to me 
that we are the safest not to tamper at all with anything 
that has done so much mischief and killed so many peo- 
ple. It was taking distilled spirits for medicine that first 
got the people to taking them for drinks. 

Edward King. But isn't it just possible that we might 
need to take them for something. Isn't such a step 
rather venturesome ? 

J. Not half so venturesome, to my notion, as it is to fos- 
ter the idea that we need this terrible poison. My father 
says he has not taken a drop of alcohol in any shape 
for forty years, and 1 think I can do without it as well as 
my father has. Who will pledge with me for total ab- 
staining ? 

E. I don't think it fair to change the pledge after you 
have got us all into the society. 

H. We ought not to do that, of course, unless all agree 
to it. If they do not, there is another thing we can do. 
Those who wish to go in for " No Alcohol " put " N. A." 
after their name on the pledge-book. Here goes for my 
name. (He writes in the book.) 

J. I'll agree to that. (Signs.) 

G. That means something, and I like it. (Signs.) 

H. I move that action in George's case be postponed 
indefinitely. 



286 Tilings Worth Knowing. 

Pres. All in favor say ay. 

All. Ay. 

Pres. Secretary, please put N. A. after my name. 

Sec. I will, and after my own too. 

E. Here, I don't like to be left out in the cold. (Ha 
takes the book and writes, and all the 7'est do the same. 
While they are writing, the colloquy proceeds?) 

J. Mr. President, 1 would like to ask Henry where he 
found this capital idea. 

H. My grandfather told me that the first pledges of 
our temperance societies were against distilled liquors 
only, and not against cider, wine, and beer. But when 
they found these too would make drunkards, they began 
to take the pledge against them by writing u T. A." after 
their names, which means " total abstaining/' and they 
did this until they had a total abstinence pledge. So I 
thought we could mend our pledge until we get a better 
by adding " N. A.," which means that we will not take 
the stuff at any time nor under any circumstances. 

Pres. A capital idea, and I hope we will have a pledge 
like that very soon. All in favor of that rise and sing 
*' God speed the Right." (They all rise up and sing?) 

Julia Colman. 



Things Worth Knowing. 

Characters. — Tom, Dick, and Harry, 

Tom. Now, Dick, your father is a temperance man ; 
mine an't. You are a Cadet and Hope Bander, and ought 
to know all about the cold-water cause. I want to ask 
you a question or two about Cadets, and Bands .of Hope, 
and Sons, and Washingtonians. 

DlCK. Well, Tom, if I can answer your questions, J 
shall be happy to do so ; go ahead. 



Things Worth Knowing. 287 

TOM. How many years ago did the temperance cause 
start? 

D. Why, Tom, the Bible speaks of men who drank no 
wine, and that must have been thousands of years ago. 

T. I want to know when it began in this country ? 

D. 1 heard Dr. Jewett say, in one of his lectures, that 
it commenced here among white men about forty years 
ago; but before that time there was an Indian chief who 
called upon the law makers in Ohio and Kentucky for 
a law to prohibit the sale of whiskey to the Indians. 
Jefferson was President of the United States at that time, 
and he joined with the chief in his efforts to put a stop 
to the saie of rum to the red men. 

Harry. How came our folks — I mean the white folks— 
to start the temperance reform ? 

D. Because there were so many persons, young and 
old, who drank to excess. Almost everybody drank 
beer and wine and whiskey, and all kinds of liquors. 
The people thought they could not work in the hay or 
harvest-field, in the warehouse or workshop, without 
liquors. Liquors were used when visits were made, and 
at weddings and funerals. They were placed upon side- 
boards, and passed around to the guests freely, and even 
the children were treated to liquors sweetened with 
sugar. 

T. Were there no temperance men at that time? 

D. Oh ! yes ; about that time that great and good man 
Gerrit Smith began to speak and write against intempe- 
rance, ana thirty-five years ago he made a speech in the 
City Hall Park, New York, in favor of the disuse of dis- 
tilled liquors. In New England, Dr. Lyman Beecher, Dr. 
Chapin, Dr. Edwards, Dr. Hawes, and other noble men 
preached against the great evils of drunkenness. Soon 
men like Dr. fewett, Deacon Moses Grant, and many 
others took sides against the drinking customs. 

H. How many people were there in the United States 
forty years ago — can you tell ? 



288 Things Worth Knowing. 

D. Yes, I have a temperance catechism at home, and 
that gives me all the dates and figures and facts. At that 
time there were about twelve millions of people in this 
country. 

H. How much did they drink ? 

D. About seventy-five millions of gallons a year. That 
would be about equal to six gallons to each man, woman, 
and child. 

T. Say, Dick, do you know when the first temperance 
society was formed in this country? 

D. In 1826. 

T. That is forty-four years ago, an't it ? 

H. Was that pledge like ours ? 

D. No ; it was a pledge against the use of ardent 
6pirits only. In 1832, another pledge was adopted, and 
that excluded wine, beer, and cider, and all kinds of in- 
toxicating drinks. That is our pledge. We Cadets, and 
the Hope boys, promise also to abstain from the use of 
tobacco and profane speech. 

T. I should like to know if people can get drunk on 
swearing or by chewing tobacco ? 

D. No ; but boys and men who swear and chew are 
very apt to get drunk. 

H. I know some good men who chew. 

D. That maybe, but they are none the better for chew- 
ing, and I think they would find it easier to be good if 
they did not chew. 

G. W. Bungay. 



